Whiplash

A man elevated to the highest office in the land at the cost of what held dearest. Can he withstand the treachery and political game to survive?

 

Introduction

 

                Washington Herald                         November 3

                Last night the nation overwhelmingly reelected President James Hart to a second term.                                 The Hart/Paris ticket carried every state with the exception of Maine, Massachusetts, and   Vermont.  Many jubilant supporters at the election night gala equated the broad margin                 of victory with the 1980 Reagan mandate.

                In his acceptance speech, which was interrupted by several bursts of celebratory support,          Hart spoke to the nation addressing the need for a return to national solvency based on a        balanced budget, reduction of national debt, a fair tax system, and the necessity of a true         political integrity. 

                “This nation has a great burden of responsibility to its citizenry.  A government that does              not serve its citizenry is no government at all; instead it is a tyranny that continues to               endanger its citizenry with fiscal insecurity, expecting to balance the ledger on the bent                                 backs of men and women with continued abuse of taxation.  Such government is insane                   and oppressive and will be subject to overthrow.”

                Vice President Paris addressed the celebration later in the evening, stating that “the people       have spoken, a mandate is issued.  Their will has been made painfully evident to the Washington establishment.  The people of the United States demand change and demand                their Senators and Representatives to support the President.” 

                Senator Tonja, addressing a small, somber audience at the Taj Boston, made his concession        speech, wishing President Hart great success in his administration and pledging his own                 continued support in the Senate.

*     *     *     *     *

                New York Telegraph                        February 1

                In a heartfelt address from the Vice Presidential residence at the Naval Observatory, Vice           President Martin Paris announced his resignation today.  Vice President Paris stated that he wished to spend time with his wife, Janice, who had recently been diagnosed with stage           4 ovarian cancer.  With his wife at his side, Paris stated that he was honored to serve the              nation beside a “worthy, honorable President”. 

                In a press release, President Hart stated that he was “greatly saddened by the circumstances    surrounding Martin and Janice Paris.  They are two wonderful people of the highest integrity,             and the nation lost an important part of a sound leadership with their resignation.”  The            President stated that his and his wife’s prayers were with the Paris family, and that he still          believed in miracles.

                Much speculation is circling around the nation’s Capital concerning who President Hart will          choose as Paris’ replacement.  The Speakers staff has confirmed that Speaker of the House,           John Tolebridge will be                 meeting with the President later tonight.  There are unconfirmed            reports that Hart will also be meeting with Senator Lewis Moore tomorrow morning.

*     *     *     *     *

                Camden News Service                     February 3

                Today, the House of Representatives confirmed Joshua Robert Mitchell as Vice President of      the United States.   The House voted 325 to 110 to confirm Mitchell, following the Senate’s                vote of 72-to 28 on Tuesday.  Mitchell, a second term Representative, serving the California   24th Congressional District, will be filling the vacancy created by Vice President Martin Paris’ resignation, after the diagnosis of his wife with stage 4 cancer.

                Joshua Mitchell, a surprise choice by President Hart, caught many on both sides of the aisle        off guard.  Congressional insiders had expected either Speaker John Tolebridge or Senate                 Minority Leader Lewis Moore to be named. 

                Mitchell came to national attention as a freshman Congressman, authoring the Congressional                 Accountability Act, calling for reform in legislation authorship after the passage of the 3200          page Robinson/Kale Omnibill.  The Accountability Act called for limits on the amount of            legislation which can be placed in a bill, and required all legislation to be posted in its final              version on the House website for no less than 5 business days for public review prior to being       voted on.  In his speech before Congress, Mitchell challenged not only his peers but the     leadership of the House “to start acting like Men and Women of Congress and to stop acting            like spoiled politicians, looking for ways to continue cheating those they were elected to serve”.

                Though thought political suicide by pundits, he became a national hit after the passage of the    act; his public popularity gained him favor rather than distain on Capitol Hill.  Mitchell went on                to author a tax reform bill and an energy plan, which many saw as a challenge to Middle Eastern    oil interests, and the Line Item Veto Amendment.

                Mitchell, 58, is a native of California.  An eight year Navy veteran, he reached the rank of Petty Officer.   While in the service, then Petty Officer Mitchell was introduced to Miss Constance          Albany.  A year later, the two were married.  After leaving the Navy, Mitchell and his wife        settled in Ventura, California and later moved to Santa Barbara, California.  He joined the                Ventura County Sheriff’s Department, retiring after 30 years as a Lieutenant.  Mitchell is the          father of two and grandfather of 5.

*     *     *     *     *

                “Mr. Vice President, it’s been a year since your confirmation.  During your first term in the House, you stated that when you came to Washington, you would not become a professional politician and would serve only two terms.”  Michael Dodge did his homework. “Is this true?”

This was the first personal interview Vice President Mitchell had consented to.  Sitting outside the residence at the Naval Observatory, the two of them conversed as if old friends.  But both knew that was far from true.

                “Yes Michael, it is true.  I made a promise to my wife, Constance, that I would not let this city chew me up.  She hates politics and politicians, all the arguing and compromise, all the mugging and the lack of real action.  I came to represent my district, not myself.  It was my desire to keep my word to my wife”

                “So, what happened, Vice President?  Why did you break your promise?”

                “First, my word was to my wife, and she released me from the promise and second, James Hart happened”. 

                “What did President Hart do?”  

A smile emerged on Mitchell’ lips, “Talk about relentless.  I was invited to the Oval Office to meet with the President.  I was expecting him to either scold me for some comment I made on the House floor or discuss some piece of legislation.  I was welcomed, offered a cup of coffee strong enough to melt steel, and was asked if I knew what the Vice President did.”

                “I said the Vice President did what the President told him to do without making the President upset, and in his free time patrolled the playground and made sure the sixth graders didn’t beat up the second graders too badly in the Senate.”  Mitchell chuckled.

                Michael Dodge sat opposite the Vice President with a skeptical look. “You told him that and he still considered you for the position?’

                “The President laughed and said I was the first person to actually understand the job.  Then he asked me if I wanted it.  I turned it down.”

                “You turned down the Vice Presidency.”  Dodge’s mouth dropped open and then closed, then dropped open again in disbelief.

                “Yes. Michael, I have great respect for both the President and former Vice President Paris.  Politically, I was a novice and there were others better fitted for the job.  I didn’t want to be his liability.  And I had every intention of keeping my word to my wife.  She was gracious enough to come to Washington with me and be a Congressman’s wife.”

                “So what changed your mind?’

                The Vice President slowly shook his head, “As I said, the man is relentless.  The following day, I was greeted by President Hart just outside the House chamber.  I still remember the looks on the faces of the other gentlemen of the House, when the President pulled me aside privately.  He was very insistent that he needed me and he was not willing to take second best.  I reminded him of my reasons, thanked him again for the offer, but declined the position.”

                Dodge just sat there for a moment with an incredulous look on his face.  “You turned down the Vice Presidency twice.  Not once, but twice.”

                “That’s right.  Two days later, on Saturday morning, I had some errands to run.  When I returned, a very distinctive limousine and several black SUVs were parked in front of the house.  When I walked into the living room, there sat the President and First Lady drinking tea with Constance, looking through pictures of our grandkids.“  Mitchell closed his eyes for a moment, “Oh, I was steamed.”

                “How did he handle your mood?”

                “Jim totally ignored me. He asked Connie if it was true that she didn’t like politicians.  Her response was, ‘if it wasn’t for my respect for the Presidency, you would have been aggressively shown the door rather than offered a cup of tea.’  The First Lady laughed, and Jim chuckled but I could tell that he didn’t like that.  But he recovered quickly, and continued his conversation with Constance, as if I wasn’t in the room at all.’

                “He didn’t couch his words.  James told Connie that his short list no longer existed.  It was either me or Constitutional succession.  He wanted a Vice President who would get the job done rather than politic it and had the guts to tell someone they were wrong " even him.  That would never be the case with Tolebridge; everything would be a negotiated compromise. “

                “Then he looked her straight in the eye and said, ‘Constance, I know Joshua gave you his word, and I have no respect for anyone whose word is meaningless " that’s what I truly dislike about Tolebridge.  I need Josh, but I respect you both.  If you say no, I won’t ask again and it will be Tolebridge.  Then Jim and Carol stood, said their goodbyes and left.”

                “So, the decision was your wife’s to make”.  Michael Dodge sat there, working the piece over in his mind.  “He went over your head to her!”

                Again the Vice President shook his head, “The decision was mine to make.  The President understood that my word was important.  My wife and children know that if I give my word, I will keep it, if humanly possible.  I don’t break my word unless it’s a matter of urgency.  That’s why he spoke with her.”

                Dodge listened carefully and nodded.

                “Constance and I had a long talk.  She asked how bad it would be if Tolebridge became Vice President.  I told her he was a politician with an eye on God-ship.  Then she told me that she loved me and if I wanted to say yes, she would adapt.  I told her I would honor my promise to her, but she stopped me before I could finish and said the President needed me.  I didn’t sleep that night.  I went through two pots of coffee contemplating.  It wasn’t until almost five a.m., Sunday morning, when I made my decision.   Later that morning I called the First Lady and told her I would take the job.”

                “Don’t you mean you called the President?”

                “No, I called the First Lady.  He made his plea to my wife; I made my acceptance to his.”

 

 

I

 

It was a beautiful morning with clear blue skies and the air crisp; the type of morning best spent outdoors, walking along the tidal basin enjoying the various cherry trees.  Instead this morning was being spent indoors, in a large, paneled conference room; the air warm and heavy.  President James Hart and Vice President Joshua Mitchell, the guests of honor along with their wives, sat quietly at their table as the Senate Chaplain closed the weekly prayer breakfast.  With ‘amen’ being said, the audience stood and began to circulate through the room.

                “President Hart, it was wonderful that you and Vice President Mitchell were able to join us today.”  Senate Minority Leader, Lewis Moore, stood stoically with the President and the First Lady.  “With all that is happening with the IDF-Israeli tensions, I wasn’t sure you would be able to attend.”  The IDF, an Islamic multinational military unit, had vowed retaliation upon Israel for an ‘unconfirmed’ aggression upon an Iranian laboratory and missile site.

                “It would take a lot more than the Islamic Defense Force to keep me from attending this morning, Lewis.”  Though not overly religious, James Hart had continued the courtesy of his predecessor, attending the Senate Prayer Breakfast the second Tuesday of January.  “I want to start the year out right, and the prayer breakfast always has a way of putting things in perspective for me.“

Nearby, the Vice President and his wife were speaking with the Senate Chaplain.  “You had a good turn out this week, Dr. McGraw.”

                “I always do on the second Tuesday of January.  I believe they turn out more to impress the President than to hear what I have to say.”

                “Well, you were well armed for the morning.  I’d almost say you were lying in wait.”  Both men laughed.

                “I had plenty of time to prepare for today.”

As the conversation began to wane, Joshua Mitchell noticed the every present Chief of Staff, Jack Diggs, whispering into the President’s ear from behind.  A moment later, James and Carolyn Hart were shaking hands with the “good Senator from Louisiana” and began moving to the door.

As Hart was saying his goodbyes, Mitchell, taking his wife’s hand, did the same.  And as though choreographed, both President and Vice President with wives on their arms, converged on the doorway.  Turning for a moment to flash a smile and wave to the room, the President stepped through the doorway, leading the entourage into the hallway.

*     *     *     *     *

A secret service agent quietly spoke in his small lapel mic, “Arthur is on the move.”  The agents noted the crackled response, “Arthur’s moving.”

                “They’re moving.”

                “Jim, do we really have to do this?”  Mitchell was happy to be moving after sitting for so long, but was reluctant to continue with the next activity.  “You know how much I hate publicity shots like this.  And you’re termed out!”

                “Josh, the elections are just around the corner and you know you need all the help you can get for your pending campaign, especially if you’re fighting it out with Tolebridge and Spencer.”  The President chuckled as he eyed his Vice Presidents expression.  “You really should get to work on filling your war chest.”

                “James Hart, that’s not funny.”  Joshua Mitchell was not smiling.  The last thing he wanted was the Oval Office.  “You’re lucky I’m even your Vice President.”

                “Josh this will be good for you.  I saw you nodding off in there.  You need a brisk walk up and down the steps a few times to wake you up.”  The President couldn’t pass up the opportunity to needle his Vice President.  Normally Hart was the Mitchell’s target.  “Besides, this will play well with the public.  We need all the good press and photo ops we can get if we plan to get the tax reform moving.”

                “I know " I still don’t like mugging for the cameras”, the Vice President replied.  “And I wasn’t the one snoring, Sir.  Or was that an Ohioan amen.”

The ladies stood between their husbands, laughing as the two men sparred.  Carolyn Hart turned to her husband, “You did make a noise dear, and I doubt Josh will let you forget it.  Don’t forget, it was your idea to have the double feature in the theater last night.”  The First Lady had noted on several occasions that her husband had met his match in Mitchell’s wit, and discovered James had found a good, trusted friend in Mitchell as well.

                “Joshua, you’re so tense.”  Constance Mitchell held her husband’s hand and knew to trust his instincts; the first time she learned of his ‘gut feeling’, she received a phone call late one night that her husband had been shot in the shoulder.

                “I’m alright.  I just wish we could do this photo shoot another day.”

The group was making its way past the Old Senate Chambers into the Small Senate Rotunda.

                “Josh, you were pretty antsy during the message this morning.  I wasn’t sure if it was what you ate, your nerves, or you disagreeing with the Chaplains message.”  Hart looked at his second, trying to read his expression.

                “Boss, I’ve already lodged my protest on the way here.  Nothing has changed.”

                “We’ll get it done and then it’s lunch at the House, alright.”

                “Yes, Boss.”

The entourage entered the Capitol’s Rotunda. 

                “Arthur’s near the door.”

                “They’re at the door.”

                “Sir, please wait here while we clear the approach.”  The Special Agent-in-Charge stood with the President as agents cautiously stepped through the doorway to the top of the steps.  The President and First Lady stood admiring ‘The Declaration of Independence’, while the Mitchells were looking at the Presidential statues.  After a few moments, SAC Johns received the all clear, “We’re clear here, just several maintenance people cleaning up for the photo op.  Cameras are set at the bottom of the steps.  They’re clear down here.” 

Now Diggs stepped forward, instructing each person where to stand, where to stop, and how to walk.

                “Arthur’s stepping out”

                “They’re stepping out.”

As the two men and their wives stepped out on to the east portico, their eyes brightened as the crispness embraced them.  To one side, the maintenance crew watched as the President stood with his arm around his wife, smiling and waving.  After a number of poses at the top of the impressive 36 marble steps, the Vice President and his wife joined the Harts. 

*     *     *     *     *

Standing at a window, Speaker of the House John Tolebridge stared out at the “royal court”, as he referred to the Presidential entourage. 

                “That pompous Hart and his idiot errand boy, Mitchell, are out there acting like fools.  They have no clue that America can see right through their buffoonery.”  Tolebridge spoke as if trying to spit acid from his mouth.  “Look at them with their Rose Queen waves; how sickening.  They actually think this will help pass the tax bill.  They are such fools.”

After Martin Paris stepped down to spend time with his ill wife, Tolebridge saw himself as the only viable option to fill the Vice Presidential vacancy.  James Hart had met with Tolebridge several times, discussing the position and the issues facing them.  The media had confirmed him as the heir apparent.  Then the President, according to the Speaker, ‘lost his mind’ and chose Mitchell.

                “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if someone did us all a favor and in one glorious moment made things right”, the Speaker snarled.

*     *     *     *     *

Two years earlier, James Hart sat with his senior staff in the Oval Office discussing the departure of Martin Paris.

                “The last thing I want is John Tolebridge as my Vice President.  Are there any other choices out there?  I’d even consider Bozo the Clown.”

Chief of Staff Jack Diggs sat staring into his empty coffee cup.

                “Jack, what’s going through that skull of yours?”

                “Boss, Suzuki mentioned an alternative to Tolebridge.  I told her I would pass it on, but now I’m not sure.”

                “Is it Bozo the Clown?”

                “No, it’s Joshua Mitchell.”

                “You mean Tolebridge’s nemesis?  What’s wrong with him?”

                “He’s too idealistic.  He actually expects Congress to represent their constituents and not manipulate the system.  You’ve heard him in the House, calling his peers thieves and cowards.  And he doesn’t hesitate to challenge the leadership.  Do you want that for the next four years?”

                “Jack, when he has spoken out, was he in the wrong?  Or did the House deserve to be called out?  I can handle idealism, and if I’m out of line, I should be called on the carpet.”

                “So you want me to vet the pit bull?”

                “Yes.  Having a pit bull at my command just may be what I need.”

*     *     *     *     *

With the approval of the photographer and camera crew, the Harts and Mitchells slowly begin their descent down the steps.  A number of groundskeepers with brooms, rakes, and trash cans and bags were gathered at the foot of the steps behind the photographer and in front of the posted agents, pointing and talking.  Behind them a small crowd of onlookers were forming.

A quarter of the way down the steps, the party paused and posed; the photographer exhorting the Vice President to smile.  Then they continued down a couple more steps, and another pose.  Slowly they worked their way down.

Mitchell softly spoke to his wife as they descended the steps, “I wish I was standing at the bottom of the steps right now.”

                “Why?  So this would all be over?”

                “No, I would be watching the most beautiful woman walking to me.”

                “Joshua, they’ll hear you.”  Constance Mitchell blushed as they continued their slow descent.

                “I really don’t care.  You are the prettiest girl, and when we get to the bottom, I am going to give you the biggest, most drawn out kiss in history.”

                “What will James say?”

                “That he wished he could kiss like me.”  Mitchell chuckled.

                “Hey Junior, save that for later; we’re working here.”

                “You’re only jealous because your old lungs can only last for a peck on the cheek.”

                “Watch it, Junior.  I’ll show you kissing when we get down there.”  Hart responded with gusto.

                “James.”  Now it was Carolyn’s turn to blush.

                “See what you started, Joshua.”

                “Remember Boss, the Navy trained me to hold my breath for a long time.  Besides, you’re one of those old, old Amish from the backwoods of Ohio; they don’t believe in smooching.”

                “Don’t give me that old Amish bit; just you wait until we get to the bottom.”  Now everyone was having difficulty keeping from laughing

The group made it to the midway point on the iconic steps when they were startled by yelling.  “Now!  Now!” 

On cue the “groundkeepers” at the bottom of the steps pulled weapons out of trash cans and bags, firing on the Secret Service agents.  The agents were caught off-guard, perhaps in disbelief that anyone would be so brazen to challenge them nearly face to face.

With the first shots, agents raced from the top of the steps to protect their principals.

*     *     *     *     *

                “John, someone is firing on the President”, an aide screamed!

                The Speaker coldly responded, “His Royal Highest isn’t in any danger.  He probably orchestrated this for his media blitz.  He’ll probably claim some anti-tax reform protesters were trying to kill him.”

                ‘Sir, they aren’t playing, agents don’t do that, Holy …. This is real, sir.”  The aide ran to call the Capitol Police.

                “Let’s wait until we are sure.  We don’t want to panic the Hill.”  Tolebridge’s words were like frozen daggers.  He stood at the window continuing to watch, and an unholy grin formed on his lips.

*     *     *     *     *

Before the agents could descend the steps and reach the Presidential party, the maintenance crew that was at the top of the stairs now was armed as well and began firing from the top of the stairs creating a crossfire situation.  The Secret Service did their best returning the gunfire.  At first they were downing the assassins, but now with the secondary assault from the top of the stairs, they were being cut down in the crossfire.

Then it was as if time stood still as, first Arthur and then Guinevere crumpled onto the cold stone Capitol steps.  And within seconds Jester and Lady followed.

                “They’re down!  Camelot has fallen!  Arthur’s down!  Jester’s down!”

The United States Capitol Police had responded quickly and in force upon the first report of shots being fired, but their response was not in time to save Guinevere and protect Arthur.  Within only a matter of moments, America’s Camelot was gone.

*     *     *     *     *

                “Joe, find me a judge.”  A predatory smile crept across John Tolebridge’s mouth.  “Someone just set things right.”

 

 

II

 

Within minutes, organized chaos reigned supreme on the Hill.  A company of Secret Service stormed the scene to take command from Capitol Hill Police.  Sirens could be heard approaching from every direction.  Clusters of Congressmen and staff were barricaded in offices and conference rooms in fear for their lives, and Capitol Police performed a sweep of the massive structure insuring no other gunmen were inside.  Outside dozens of onlookers were huddled on the ground.

C-SPAN already had a cameraman broadcasting live footage from the approach to the Steps.  Networks had cut from their regular broadcasting and were linking into the C-SPAN feed.  As network news desks gave their ‘informed’ thoughts on the events, a steady video stream filled the screen until the first medevac flight arrived.  The jet copter set down right at the base of the steps, with the video following the bodies of Hart and Mitchell being lifted into the craft.  Once the Life Flight lifted off, the video feed swept back to the blood stained stairs.  The video stayed on the steps for several minutes, until the arrival of the second flight, again the medevac barely touching down, being loaded with two victims, one body fully covered with a blood soaked sheet, and again lifting off.  The camera again returned to the activity on the steps.

At George Washington University Hospital, emergency room personnel were receiving the first patients from the Capitol.  President James Hart was clinging to life with gunshot wounds to his chest, neck, and head.  Next through the doors was Vice President Joshua Mitchell, conscious and stable with gunshots to his chest, shoulder, and leg. 

As the President and Vice President were being moved into their treatment rooms, the second flight was just landing.  Constance Mitchell was first out and into emergency: she was barely conscious, with wounds to the head and chest.  Then Carolyn Hart was carefully carried into the ER, her lifeless body left in a fourth room, an agent solemnly standing post beside her.

The trauma center that saved Reagan was now fighting to save Hart.

*     *     *     *     *

For several hours, hysteria reigned over Washington.  Speaker of the House, John Tolebridge, had responded to the White House.  Numerous Cabinet members had responded from their Departments to the White House, only to be chased out by Tolebridge’s aides.  The primary Cabinet Secretaries " State, Defense, the Attorney General, and Homeland Security " commandeered offices in the Eisenhower Office Building, adjacent to the West Wing, and set up their version of a Situation room.

At George Washington, the media was living update to update, gleaning details from doctors, nurses, orderlies, and janitors.  They had erroneously broadcast the death of Hart and Mitchell several times, only to contradict themselves when handed the next update seconds later.  In news rooms, anchors were discussing Presidential succession, memories of and similarities to the Kennedy assassination, and talk of the Presidential curse.  Finally, all the media at the George Washington was successfully sequestered into the auditorium, allowing hospital staff to work unimpededly.

*     *     *     *     *

                “This is Mark Peters of CNS, reporting from George Washington University Hospital.                       We’re being advised by the Hospital spokesperson that President James Hart is currently       in surgery.  The President sustained four gunshots to the torso, a gunshot to the neck                            that is dangerously close to the Carotid Artery, and a gunshot to the head.  He has been                          in surgery for the past 3 hours.”

                “The spokesperson further advises that Vice President Joshua Mitchell is in stable condition,                      resting after being treated for multiple gunshots to the torso and leg.  Constance Mitchell,          the Vice President’s wife, has just been brought out of surgery and is listed in serious             condition.  Mrs. Mitchell had sustained wounds to her chest and head.”

                “The First Lady, Carolyn Hart, died on the scene and was transported to George Washington,     where she is currently being examined by a federal medical examiner.”

                “A number of other victims have been transported here as well as to additional trauma centers                for treatment.  The number is uncertain at this time and details are still filtering in.”

*     *     *     *     *

In trauma room 2, sitting on a gurney, Joshua Mitchell wondered how he could be so fortunate.  The searing pain that had enflamed his body earlier was now dulled by painkillers.  The attending physician stared at the x-rays as the nurse continued wrapping Mitchell’s chest. 

                “Sir, you were born under some lucky star.  All of your wounds are tissue damage only.   No bones damaged, no organs struck, not even an artery nicked.  If several of the wounds had been just a hair closer, you would be dead.  How did you survive out there?”

                “I’m not exactly sure, doctor,” Mitchell slowly shook his head.  “I almost went down with the gunshot to the thigh, but then the agent near me was hit and went down taking me with him. He landed on top of my legs and I couldn’t move.  I remember trying to reach my wife to pull her close to me to protect her, but the agent’s weight had pinned me to the stairs.”

The Vice President froze for a moment as he remembered looking into his wife’s eyes as they laid on the steps reaching for each other. “Doctor, how’s my wife?”

The doctor did not respond, continuing to stare at the x-rays.

                “DOCTOR, how is my wife?”

The tension in the room grew heavy as everyone tried to look somewhere else, as if busy in their work. 

The physician turned to his patient, “Sir, she is being attended to by another team.  Once we know her condition, we will advise you.”  The physician turned away and walked to the sink.  I wish this place taught us to lie better.  Now’s not the time for him to be thinking about her.  The medical personnel in the treatment room knew her condition " they knew that she was in fact out of surgery in grave condition; each team was kept advised of the other team’s progress and their patients’ conditions.

                “AGENT!”   The Vice President yelled, unsatisfied with the doctor’s response.  Immediately, two secret service agents entered the treatment room, signs of panic on their faces and weapons being drawn.  “I want to know the condition of my wife and the President, NOW!”

This was not the Vice President everyone was accustomed to.  The agents could not recall ever hearing Mitchell raise his voice like that.  Agents Roberts and Boone stood frozen, unsure of what to say or do; their eyes darting from the Vice President to the doctor and back.  No one had thought the tension in the room could have grown any worse: it did, the atmosphere becoming stifling.

                “AGENTS!”  Mitchell knew something was bad.  “You take your orders from me, not the doctor.  I WANT THEIR CONDITIONS, NOW.”

                “Mr. Vice President,” it was his physician’s voice, “everything that can be done is being done.  This is the best trauma center in the Metro area.  As soon as there is something to report, we will be informed and in turn will inform you.  The other teams don’t need agents interrogating them, interfering with their ability to work.  Let us do our jobs.”  Liar.  The doctor turned to the agents and dismissed them from the room.

                “Doctor, I NEED to know.  I may be the President at this moment and I need to know the extent of my authority.  This is a matter of National Security and Federal Integrity.”

                “I understand, and as soon as we know, you will know.”

Joshua Mitchell sat quietly in his bed, being stitched and taped, trembling at what he wasn’t being told.

*     *     *     *     *

After five hours of sitting in the treatment room, being poked, and x-rayed, and re-examined, and taped, and wrapped, and who knows what else, Josh Mitchell now sits alone.  Beside him, a thick folder sits on the tray table, containing notifications and advisements, situation reports, as well as updates from the various Investigating agencies.  Hospital staff had been in several times to let him know that there was nothing new to advise concerning his wife’s or the Presidents conditions.  Jack Diggs and his own COS, Mike Rodgers, had been in and out throughout the afternoon with updates.  Yet with all that was being handed him, Mitchell’s mind drifted.  It’s easy to start thinking what if, and he knows that is dangerous.  He tries to distract himself by thinking about the kids and grandkids.  If he had his phone, he would give them a call; they must be worried.

As he sat there, his attending physician entered with an orderly pushing a wheelchair.  “Sir, would you like to visit your wife?”

                “Yes!”  The Vice President had been impatiently waiting, and even tried at one point to travel to her on his own before being caught, scolded, and returned to his room by ER staff.

                “Mr. Mitchell,” the doctor’s voice was foreboding, “your wife is conscious, but she is in grave condition.  We do not know if she will survive; it is a matter of wait and see.”  The physician closed his eyes, hoping this was a terrible dream and then opened them.  “She is asking for you, and you can be with her.”

The Vice President suddenly felt sick, but fought the sensation to throw up.  He needed to be with his Connie.  As the attendant wheeled Mitchell into the room to Constance’s bed, the agents remained at attention, but Mitchell could see the sorrow in their eyes.

                “Hey there, Beautiful.”  Joshua did his best to sound upbeat.  “What’s this about you flirting with the attending staff?”   Mitchell reached over with is good arm and gingerly held her hand.  “You know how jealous I am.”

Connie Mitchell smiled weakly at her husband.  And as her husband gently brushed the top of her hand with his thumb, Connie finally began to relax.  The two of them conversed quietly about visiting the kids and seeing the grandchildren.  Joshua spoke of building the lake house and how Connie could “frill it up”.

Connie lay quietly as her husband did most of the talking, though he really wasn’t saying much.  She gazed at him, as if trying to memorize his face.  The beautiful, but weak smile never left her lips as he held her hand. 

                “I love you, Joshua Robert.”

                “And I love you, Constance Ann.”

And at that moment, Constance Mitchell closed her eyes, took a breath, and fell asleep for eternity.

And the Vice President sat by her side and wept.

*     *     *     *     *

The hospital auditorium was filled with reporters and film crews from local, national, and international media outlets.  The hospital had been giving updates throughout the afternoon on the President’s and Vice President’s conditions.  When the hospital’s spokesperson wasn’t addressing the audience, the Public Information Officer from the FBI or the USSS was.  The room was suffering from information overload and was now enjoying a small breather to get their facts clear.

Behind the podium, off to one side, the respective PIOs were meeting in a huddle.  The auditorium fell silent.

*     *     *     *     *

                “Mr. Vice President.”  Chief Justice William Harkness was addressing Mitchell.  Standing with the Chief Justice, was FBI Director Torrance Evans and USSS Director Stephen Cullens. 

The Vice President, still sitting beside the now empty bed, which had been his wife’s, looked up at the trio emotionally spent.  He looked into the eyes of each as if staring into the eyes of the harbinger of death, pleading to be taken.

                “Sir, we are here to advise you of the death of James Hart, the President of the United States.”  William Harkness had issued many tough decisions, always with a strong voice.  Now, his voice quivered as he announced the death of his close friend.  “You must come with us to the auditorium to take the oath of office.”

Mitchell did not stir.  He was empty.  And he couldn’t move.  He heard what was said, he understood what was said, but he just couldn’t move.  He was done.

                “Mitchell, now is the time to act,” the jurist finding his voice once more. “Jim Hart chose you as a firewall between the Presidency and the Speaker.  If you don’t act now Tolebridge wins.  You will be handing Jim’s nemesis the Oval Office.”

                “Gentlemen, do you understand what has happened today?  You want me to swear an oath for an office I’ve never wanted while I sit beside the bed where my wife died an hour ago?”  Joshua Mitchell was physically trembling as he spoke.  “You want me to act so someone else won’t?”

                “Then the terrorist have won,” this time it was Cullens who was speaking, “and those agents died for nothing to spare your life.  And what do you think Constance would say about that.  I know she is gone and you are in pain, but you aren’t the only one to know that pain.  The nation is in pain, and you are the only one who can truly bring healing.”

                “Don’t be throwing Constance at me, especially now.  They took my wife from me; my joy, my beauty, my very life.  The nation has no idea about my pain.”

                “Do you trust Tolebridge to avenge your wife?”  Director Tory Evans knew this pain well.  Two years earlier, Evans was in this same hospital when his wife died, the victim of an unrepentant drunk driver.  “It is the responsibility of the President to ensure justice is carried out.  Tolebridge would sooner sweep Jim, Carolyn, and Constance’s deaths under the carpet than pursue those responsible.  Joshua, I know it hurts.  And it takes time to deal with the hurt.  But right now the nation is looking to you to lead, to bring justice.  They mourn with you and will stand with you.  But you need to stand and lead.”

Mitchell looked into the face of each man.

*     *     *     *     *

                “Ladies and Gentlemen, my name is Dr. Lawrence Davis.  I was the lead physician for the President.  At seven eighteen this evening, James Hart died during surgery …

*     *     *     *     *

At the White House, two men stood facing each other in the Oval Office, while Tolebridge’s aides and White House staff looked on.  The cameras from C-SPAN were broadcasting live.  Appellate Court Justice Ruben Edward Salazar held a Bible and Speaker John Tolebridge placed his hand on it.

                “I, John Tolebridge, do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my Ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States.”

*     *     *     *     *

There was a knock on the door.  Chief Justice Harkness stepped outside for a moment.  When he returned he was white with anger.  “Mitchell, Tolebridge just took the oath.”  The Chief Justice was furious.  “Salazar just administered the oath to him on C-SPAN.  You must act now.”

Mitchell stared at the floor. 

                “MITCHELL”

                “Gentlemen, I need a moment.”  The trio looked at one another, and then stepped outside leaving the Vice President alone in the room.  Oh God, what do I do?  Mitchell sat with his head in his hands.

                “Joshua, I have chosen you for this moment.  I am with you.”

With those words, uncertain if he heard them in his ears or his mind, Joshua Mitchell found the strength and slowly rose to his feet and limped to the door.  As he opened the door, two secret service agents turned towards him, startled.  The trio stood awaiting their answer as a nurse stood nearby holding the Vice President’s blood stained clothing.

                “I will need a moment to dress.  Nurse will you help me please.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Ladies and Gentlemen, if there are no further questions …”  Before Davis could finish, the attention of all in the auditorium turned to see Joshua Mitchell, attired in a torn, blood stained shirt and  suit,  enter walking with a cane.  The sound of cameras and whispers were silenced by the appearance of Chief Justice Harkness.   Mitchell stepped to the podium and stopped.  The Chief Justice stepped past the Vice President and turned to face him.  Placing his hand on the Bible held by Harkness, Mitchell raised his good arm.

                “I, Joshua Robert Mitchell, do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my Ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States, so help me God.”

 

 

 

III

 

Houses of government around the world had been anxiously awaiting the news from the United States.  And now it was confirmed.  James Hart, President of the United States, was dead.  And what most world leaders considered the ‘wild card’ was played; Joshua Mitchell was sworn in as President. 

The framers of the United States Constitution had carefully established a line of succession to the Presidency, in the event that the President was unable to complete his term of office.  That linage started with the Vice President, followed by the Speaker of the House, the President Pro Tempore of the Senate, then the Cabinet in order of the creation of their positions.  Most leaders understood the American Constitution and its line of succession to the Presidency, though the actions of Speaker Tolebridge were disconcerting to most.

In London, Prime Minister James Wilson was on the phone speaking with Canadian Prime Minister David Mulrooney and Australian Prime Minister George Miller.

                “James, do you or David have any insight into this Mitchell?”  Miller sat with a folder open containing a bio of Joshua Mitchell.

                “We have the biography that was forwarded to both of you a year ago.  He seems to be a straight up gofer.  No political aspirations at the time.”  The phone beeped. “One moment, gentlemen.”  Wilson tapped a button; his aide advised that the Duke of Cambridge was on the phone wishing to speak with the Prime Minister.

                “Your Royal Highness, how can I help you?” Wilson was a bit surprised by the Prince’s call, and a bit perturbed by the interruption.

                “Mr. Wilson, my wife and I just heard about Hart and Mitchell.  Would it be permissible if Kate and I were part of the contingent for the funerals?  We were both fond of the Harts and the Mitchells and would like to be there to offer our support to Joshua.”

                “Do you know Mitchell very well?”

                “Well enough to get into that card game with him.  We keep in touch; basically exchanging playful jabs at each other.”

                “Yes, by all means.  Your Highness, I have Mulrooney and Miller on another line.  Let me put you on the line with them.  There are questions concerning Mitchell.  We are looking for any insights into what makes him tick.”  Within seconds a four way call was in progress.

                “Your Royal Highness, this is George Miller.  What can you tell us about the Yank?”

                “Mr. Miller, he is a character.  He’s lighthearted, cleaver, and loves card games.  Mr. Wilson remembers that game he played.  I swear he was making it up as he went.”  Prince William was laughing.

                “I recall you lost that game, and I had to give Hart a case of caviar.  And it was the good stuff.  I had to have it smuggled out of the palace.”  Now Wilson was laughing.

                “And grandmum still has no idea what happened to it.”  Now laughter was heard from all.  “He is smart, quick witted.  Hart trusted him implicitly.  He handled that missile negotiation in Turkey and that matter in Brazil.  We happened to be in Turkey while he was there.  The ambassador in Turkey said Mitchell was a fierce negotiator; he never called Hart, he just sat down and took control of the matter.  He had the Russians so overwhelmed; they were pacing in the conference room.”  The Prince sounded like he was in awe of Mitchell.

                “Hart wasn’t stupid in who he picked.”  Now Mulrooney was adding to the conversation.  “I recall asking him about Mitchell when Hart was visiting Quebec.  Hart said Mitchell was his secret weapon.  People underestimated him, thinking he is just some messenger boy, which made him dangerous.  You have no idea what you walked into until it’s too late.  Mitchell wouldn’t hesitate to do what was needed to get the mission done.”

                “That’s what totally happened in Turkey.  The Russian delegation sat down across from Mitchell, and he blindsided them.”  The Duke of Cambridge responded.  “And there is talk that negotiations in Brazil went the same way.  He walks in underestimated, and the other side leaves devastated.”

                “So, your Highness, this Yank is 007 pretending to be the court jester?”  Miller was laughing at the thought of the spy juggling grapefruits.

                “That’s a good way of putting it.  I wouldn’t cross him.”

*     *     *     *     *

In February 1945, Roosevelt, Churchill, and Stalin met in Yalta to discuss the reorganization of the war torn lands of Europe and Asia.  During the conference, it was agreed to establish a four-power trusteeship over Korea, consisting of the Republic of China, the Soviet Union, the United Kingdom, and the United States. 

Having declared war upon Japan shortly after V-E day, in early August, the Soviet Union entered Korea from Siberia without resistance.  A week later, Japan surrendered unconditionally to the Allied Forces.  With the Soviet presence in the northern portion on Korea and the United States in the southern, it was decided to divide the nation at the 38th parallel, in order to facilitate the transfer of prisoners of war.

The hope of an independent Korean nation soon dissipated as Cold War tensions grew.  As a result, two nations were established, though the Republic of Korea (South Korea) was the only nation on the peninsula recognized by the United Nations.

On June 25th, 1950, the North Koreans crossed the 38th parallel to invade the South, claiming the 38th parallel was an artificial boundary and that the North had a right to claim the remainder of the peninsula.  By late September, the North had captured most of the peninsula, with the exception of the Southeastern corner, before South Korean forces with the aid of the United States was able to stop their advance.  By November, the South was able to push back and capture most of the Northern territory, before China entered the war.

By the spring of 1951 the fighting had reached a stalemate, having returned to the 38th parallel, and continued until the armistice in June 1953.  Ever since, an awkward peace existed between the two nations.  Tonight, the Korean peninsula was tense, but quiet. 

                “Comrades, with Hart dead the Americans are paralyzed.  Mitchell is a whelp who has to have someone hold his hand.  Tolebridge is just as ineffective; he would negotiate half of the South to us to avoid war.  If we launch now, they won’t be able to respond before it’s too late; and then who ever finally prevails as the American President will negotiate with us.”

                “If we launch the attack, won’t we be looked upon as the assassins as well?  A war with the witch in the South is not a problem with the United States licking its wounds.  But do we risk the direct wrath of America?  If they think we killed Hart, the attack on us would be personal and the world would support their punishing us.”

The North Korean leader sat, pondering the possibilities.

                “Any action we take will take time to prepare for.  Let us begin moving personnel south in preparation.  It won’t be long before we know more details on the deaths.  Then we can move quickly when we are certain of no retaliation.”  The leader made his decision, setting the wheels in motion for invasion.

*     *     *     *     *

In Israel, they were waking up to the news of America’s plight.  Prime Minister Moshe David was sitting in his office reading through updates from Mossad.

                “Alf, this matter is not good.”  David was arranging memos on his desk.  “James Hart was a good man.  He was a good friend.  Do we know who did this?  Can we trust Joshua Mitchell or is he going to be like that traitor who said he was our friend and then started kissing the rings of our enemies?  What do we know about all this?”

Alf Guiron, Director of the Mossad, sat opposite his friend with a cup of strong coffee in hand. 

                “Moshe, we have reports of foreign assets being involved, but the Americans are playing it close to the vest, as they say.  We haven’t been able to learn much more than that and it will take time to see who is behind this.  No one is claiming responsibility and most are afraid to be associated with the assassination of Hart.  Our known enemies are silent on the matter, though we have been contacted through backdoors: they are distancing themselves from the act.  This has me very concerned; someone did this and they are remaining quiet about it.  And an angry United States is the most fearful thing I can imagine: anger mingled with their arsenal and assets scare me.”

                “And what about Mitchell?”

                “Hart surprised many with his choice of Mitchell.  We know the type of man Hart was and it is rare for a good man to choose the opposite to stand with him; maybe divergent in some views to augment his own weaknesses, but never opposite.  From what we have seen of Mitchell, Hart chose wisely.   Mitchell is a wounded lion though.  His lioness is dead and the lion is resting, recovering from his wounds.  When he is well, he will be dangerous.  He will hunt the murderers and will not leave them alive.  Trust him?  Not now, but in time we may be able to trust him and perhaps tame him and turn him to be ours.”

                “I hope so, Alf.  We need the United States’ strength and support before our enemies unite against us.”

*     *     *     *     *

Grigori Timour Petrovich sat in the study of the Presidential Residence in the Kremlin.  A fire burned in the fireplace to counter the snow and bitter wind outside, and Petrovich enjoyed his coffee.  It had been a long night for Grigori as he awaited news of the events in America.

                “Ivan Anatoly, what is happening is not good.  Hart was a good man, a fair man.  I didn’t always like what he did or agree with his arguments, but he was always fair.  I knew where I stood with him.  Argh, why does it have to be Mitchell?”

                “Grigori, is there a problem with Mitchell?”

                “I have dealt with Mitchell before in Turkey.  Joshua Robert was like a cat toying with its prey before eating it.”

                “Grigori, was he unfair in his dealings, crude in his nature, or did he enter the negotiations with the better position?”

                “I know he wasn’t really toying with me; it was more showing me that I had no options except what he offered, but he wore me down.  Every angle I played in the talks, he had a response.  Looking back, I think he was bluffing several times, but he was so confident and believable, I had no choice but to believe him.  He even proffered several options, giving me hope, only to show me the futility of pursuing them.  Several times, I found myself in such complete frustration; I stood and paced in the conference room.  And what made it worse was that he would get up and pace with me.  At one point his consoling ended with me in tears from laughing so hard.  And when we were away from the negotiation table, he was so friendly and approachable.  You can’t help but like him.”

                “So he is a good replacement for Hart?”

                “For the American’s, yes; I would prefer Tolebridge, he would be easy to negotiate with.  But I fear that Mitchell will be a greater challenge than Hart ever was.”              

*     *     *     *     *

In a house resembling an oasis in the midst of the desert sits an older man.  The BBC is showing live footage of a man in bloody clothes taking an oath.  This man is weak.  It would be better if they were both dead, but what matters is that Hart is dead.  Hitler was right, ‘demoralize the enemy from within by surprise, terror, sabotage, assassination.  This is the war of the future.’ America cannot interfere as long as they are so wounded.  We can succeed as long as we can keep them off balance.  Now, we take the next step.

The man sits down, and turns the volume up.  It’s always good to hear what you adversary has to say, even the weak ones.

 

 

 

 

IV

 

Uneasiness settled over the hospital auditorium; a Constitutional Conflict existed as the United States has two men sworn in as President.  Chief Justice Harkness stepped to Mitchell’s right as Joshua turned to the microphone to address the nation.

                “Ladies and Gentlemen, my name is Joshua Mitchell.  You have just witnessed my taking the oath of the office of President, in accordance with the Constitution of the United States.  I have been informed another has taken this oath as well.  Some may think that there is a Constitutional Conflict.  No such conflict exists; all other claims upon the Presidency are now null and void.  I now order the obedience of all federal offices and personnel to my authority.”

                “To those around the globe questioning the strength and integrity of the United States, I will make this very clear.  You will find no friend more loyal and no enemy greater feared than the United States and its President.  The decision is yours.  If it be for friendship, we gladly extend to you our hand.  If you choose to stand opposed, if you think this is an opportune time to act against this nation and its friends, you do so at your own risk " you have been warned.”

                “To the citizens of this great nation, this government still stands.   The doors of government are open; we are here and will continue to serve this nation.  I ask for your patience as we make our transition and pursue those who reached their hand out against this nation.  A good friend and a great man fell today.  A gracious, generous woman fell beside him.  I will not hesitate to employ every means available in our pursuit of those behind their deaths until all have been brought to justice. “

                “During my days in law enforcement, many in society would criticize us for our efforts to capture those responsible for the murder of a police officer.  They believed we cared more for our own than for the public and would do more to avenge the death of a policeman than anyone else.  Why are policemen more important than anyone else?  Why would we seek additional resources and go to greater lengths to catch a ‘cop-killer’?  If someone is willing to take the life of a policeman or sheriff’s deputy, someone empowered to stand against evil, what makes anyone believe that person won’t hesitate to take anyone else’s life?   And how much greater is the threat when they take the life of a President?”

                “I therefore order all military forces to defense condition 3, with specific theaters of operation to be elevated to condition 2 as necessary.  I also command Homeland Security to raise the National Threat Level to Red for the next 72 hours.  We will be appointing a special prosecutor to investigate the assassination and request any and all aid the public can provide.”

                “For those who question the will of the man taking this oath, understand this: I do not take this oath lightly, and I intend to keep it.  I will not hesitate to preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution, and I will do so against all enemies foreign and domestic; and I will employ every means necessary, to the furthest extent of this nation’s laws.”

                “Finally, to those who dared to reach out their hands against the United States - we’re still here, we’re still standing.  You may think that you have done some great thing.  No, you have only roused a great and fearful force that will hunt you down.  Do not deceive yourselves, thinking that you can hide and that we will never find you.  We will, and when we do, we will exact justice.”

Having completed his statement, President Mitchell turned and slowly walked from the podium to the doors, followed by Chief Justice Harkness.  Every eye and every camera followed the two men crossing the room. 

This was not the Mitchell anyone knew.  As Vice President, the press corps knew him as the Presidents lackey; Hart ordered it, Mitchell carried it out.  To some, Mitchell was known as Harts comic relief.  But no one had ever known Mitchell to act or speak in this manner, not since the House anyway. 

No sooner did the doors shut, the auditorium erupted.  Network reporters began their commentaries on what was said, what was omitted, the implications, and their suppositions of what was about to unfold.  Those without a camera to address were on their cells and laptops, submitting their copy to their respective outlets.

And one word was being repeated throughout the room: Showdown.

*     *     *     *     *

                “Mark Peters, what is your immediate impression of President Mitchell?”  Mike Walker quickly spoke from his desk in the CNS newsroom.

                “Mike, I don’t know who this guy is.  This isn’t the Vice President Mitchell any of us know.  His voice was one of resolve, and his words were plain enough for the common man to understand while exact enough to put the leaders of the world on notice.  If I were Tolebridge or those behind the assassination, I’d be afraid.”

                “Mark, we would have to agree with you.  Everyone here was taken aback by the seriousness of Mitchell, and his tone of authority.  And one person here remarked about how settled Mitchell appeared in the role of President, despite the death of his wife several hours ago.”

                “Mike, it’s interesting that he didn’t mention her once and yet everyone here felt he was referring to her when he said he would ‘use every means available to the furthest extent of the law’.”

                “Mark we were impressed by what he had to say.  This was an impromptu address.  His words were reassuring to the nation in regards to the federal governments operation, to our allies in regards to our support, and a warning to our enemies.  The address was less than 5 minutes, a very succinct statement.  I don’t think anyone in the United States doubts Joshua Mitchell is the President.  What can we expect now?”

                “Mike, the one word being repeated here is ‘Showdown’.  It is obvious Mitchell is physically hurting; it could be seen in his slow movements, walking with a cane.  You can see the pain in his facial expressions.  We saw footage earlier of Tolebridge taking the Oath in the Oval Office and I doubt he plans to relinquish it any time soon.  And we all know the animosity between him and Mitchell.  I don’t know if Mitchell is up to it, but he must take possession of the Oval Office to settle this matter.”

                “So now we wait for the Showdown on Pennsylvania Avenue.”

*     *     *     *     *

Having taken the oath of office, Tolebridge walked into the Oval Office, and immediately stepped behind the desk and sat in the chair.  His aides pulled their phones out and started snapping photos of their enthroned leader.  One flipped on the television in the Office.

                “Mr. President, Mitchell was just sworn in by Harkness.  He was talking tough, and I think he will have to be reckoned with.  The media is talking about a showdown.”

                “Joe, haven’t you heard, ‘possession is 9/10ths of the law.”  Tolebridge closed his eyes, relishing the prize he had captured.  “I doubt he has the guts to show up.  And if he does, what is he going to do?  If he’s lucky, I’ll let him finish out his term as Vice President.”

                “But you remember him in the House.  There was even talk that he was considering challenging you for the Speakership.”

                “Hart had him neutered.  That is why he is so docile now.”

Tolebridge’s first act was to order the Presidents safe opened.  After all, he needed to inventory its contents and learn its secrets.  Tolebridge’s insolence was infectious.  His entourage began making calls, ordering meetings, preparing press briefings, and reorganizing the Cabinet and office staff. 

*     *     *     *     *

                “Mr. Chairman, I recognize Representative Mitchell of California for five minutes.”

Joshua Mitchell stepped to the rostrum in the Speakers Well and pulled out several pages from his inside jacket pocket.  Here goes nothing.

                “Mr. Chairman, members of the House.  I was approached yesterday by an aide to Representative Robinson, and was asked how I was voting on the Omnibill.  The bill at this time is at 3100 pages and still growing.  I said I wasn’t sure.  His response; ‘If you’re smart, you will vote in favor of the bill, otherwise you can kiss your seat goodbye.’”

                “Mr. Robinson, I have your response.”  Mitchell picked up the papers off the rostrum.  “Ladies and Gentlemen of the House, I am introducing a bill " the Congressional Accountability Act.”

                “Mr. Mitchell you are out of order.  Sit down and …”

                “Sir, you are out of order and I have the floor.  You expect the citizens of the United States to accept this garbage you call legislation?  The bill is so large and so ambiguous; no one can read and understand it before it’s voted on.  Or is that the point?  This bill deals with funding research to determine if rodents are homosexual.  There is proposed funding for the rubbing alcohol industry in Nebraska.  And let’s not forget the special funding for the toothpick industry in Tennessee.  Too bad we can’t include funding for clown noses or motorized roller skates; or maybe you haven’t listed those items yet, I was only able to get through the first 700 pages.

                It’s time you start acting like Men and Women of Congress and stop acting like spoiled politicians, looking for ways to continue cheating those who elected you.  This ‘Omnibill’ is an embarrassment to this government, to this President, and to this nation.  The people we serve work hard for their paychecks.  It’s bad enough that this chamber can’t pass a balanced budget; you want to push us further into debt and steal more from those you represent.  You’re not happy taking the silver when they aren’t looking, you have the audacity to pick their pockets while you look them in the face and tell them how you are saving them money.”

                “The Congressional Accountability Act:”

                                “Clause one of the bill: no bill may be presented to the House for consideration that is in                              excess of 250 pages, including riders and amendments, with the exception of the listed                                                items in subsection 2.

                                Clause two: no unrelated riders or earmarks may be attached.  All subject matter in the                                                bill must pertain to the primary subject of the bill.

                                Clause three: all bills are to be written in clear, plain English whenever possible.

                                Clause four: all bills will be in Times New Roman font, font size 12.

                                Clause five: the final version of the bill will be posted to the House website for no less                                   than 5 business days for public review and comment.”

                “Failure to pass this bill will be an indictment against this Congress, providing additional evidence to the citizens of this nation that they did nothing more than send a pack of thieves to Washington to ‘represent’ them.  Mr. Speaker, you’re not exempt.  It’s time to lead this house in integrity or face replacement.”

Representative Mitchell stepped away from the rostrum and handed his bill to the clerk.  As he did so, applause from the house floor began, and voices could be heard in support of the ‘Congressional Accountability Act’.

*     *     *     *     *

As President Mitchell stepped through the doors from the auditorium, he was immediately encircled by the Secret Service detail that was haphazardly formed.  A Marine stood nearby with a metal briefcase.  A Colonel stepped forward and handed Mitchell a familiar, plastic card.  “Mr. President, this is your ‘biscuit’ and these are your ‘Gold Codes’.”

Mitchell took the nuclear authorization ID and launch codes.  “Thank you.”  Turning to the agent nearest him the President inquired, “what is the status of Castle?’

                “Castle is secure, but Tolebridge is in the Keep.”  The agent, Cassandra Roberts, was senior of the detail and was part of Hart’s detail that was left behind at the White House.

                “How did he get in there?”  Mitchell was furious.  “I should have expected that.”

                “Mr. President, as Speaker of the House he had the right to respond to the White House under these conditions.  There had to be a continuity of authority.”  Roberts did her best to explain. 

                “Mr. President,” the Chief Justice now spoke up, “the longer he is there, the greater the damage he will do.  And the more difficult it will be to solidify your claim.”

                “Chief Justice, solidify my claim?  I acted in obedience to the Constitution.  I took the oath, which nullifies any claim he has on the Presidency.  My main concern is getting out of here.  Dr. Kawabe, is there an issue with my leaving.”

                “Mr. President, you need to heal; if you leave the hospital now, you run the risk of infection or further injury.”

                “The White House has a physician on call and a fully equipped medical office.”  Cullens knew the layout of Castle better than anyone, having been a prior SAC of the protection detail.

                “Then get me whatever papers I need to discharge myself, ASAP.  And you’re coming with me Doc.”  Turning to Roberts, “Is the Service with me or Tolebridge?” 

                “We observe the Constitution, and stand with you.”

                “Director Cullens, will there be an issue with Castle security?”

                “No, Mr. President.  I will have to simply make a call to Castle Control.”

Mitchell stood stone still for a long moment, his eyes shut tightly as he thought the situation through. 

                “Alright, Stephen, I want a company of agents ready to be in the air immediately.  And hold off on the call to Castle Command, I don’t want any lapse in security or to tip my hand to Tolebridge.  I don’t want to be shot down on my first day on the job so when we are on approach, I want the roof and perimeter advised.  Once we are on the ground, we’ll have the West Wing stand down.”  Turning to a hospital staffer, “I need a phone.”

A moment later, the President was speaking on the phone.  “Colonel Jackson, this is the President, I need a helicopter and a company of Marines.”

*     *     *     *     *

Tolebridge was deep in the files from the safe, taking notes while his ‘staff’ was making phone calls. 

                “Sir, the Congressional leadership will be here.  A few asked why you and not Mitchell, but we clarified that, especially since most saw you take the Oath.  The Attorney General, and the Secretaries of State and Defense will be here in the morning, but the others either hang up on me or say you don’t have the authority.”

Tolebridge glared at the aide.  How is it that he can command the Big Three, but the rest outright disrespect him?

                “You tell that worthless secretary out there to get me the Cabinet on a conference call now.”  Tolebridge was pounding the desk as he spoke, folders bouncing in response.

As the outraged occupant pounded his desk, another aide was looking out the window at the South Lawn.  “Sir, we have company!”

All eyes turned to the window.  Marines had just repealed onto the lawn.

*     *     *     *     *

                “Sir, Marines are on the ground, the Secret Service is on approach,” Agent Roberts spoke into the headset mic.  She was unhappy with this operation.  This is Castle, and Castle was the protectorate of the United States Secret Service.  She understood the Presidents reasoning, but still. 

The President made it very clear.  The agents are there for him, to keep him safe.  The Marines were there for those who oppose him, including agents not sure which side to choose.  The thought of a firefight between Secret Service agents would be just as devastating as their loss on the Capitol steps.

                “Sir, the Service and Marshals are on the ground, deployed within the Marine perimeter,” Roberts advised.

                “Then take us in,” the President ordered.

*     *     *     *     *

The Oval Office occupants were in awe as they watched Marines at first repel, and then seeing Hueys doing touch and goes on the lawn.  Approximately 100 Marines were crouched in several arcs with another 50 or so Secret Service Agents and 30 US Marshals behind them. 

Then the last Huey Iroquois touched down.  First out was Agent Roberts and several agents, followed by President Mitchell, Chief Justice Harkness, Directors Cullens and Evans, and finally Dr. Kawabe.

The show of force had a pronounced effect on most of the unwanted guests in the Office, but John Tolebridge was unfazed.

                “Here comes the impotent lackey,” Tolebridge snarled.

*     *     *     *     *

Mitchell stood in the middle of the forces present.  Addressing the Major and the ranking officers, the President asked his question; “Gentlemen, from whom do you take your orders?”

                “Sir you are the Commander-in-Chief, we follow you Sir.”

                “Major, on my orders you will enter and secure the Oval Office, the outer office, and the private study.  Once secured, Secret Service will enter and take command of the area.  You will remain to augment the Service; this is not a contest of egos, gentlemen.  They were hurt badly today and I want addition security.  You will accept assignments from them in their house.  Do you understand me, Major?”

                “Sir, yes Sir.”

                “Stephen,” the President now turning to the Secret Service Director, “you are to order all agents in the West Wing to stand down on my orders, now.”

Without reply, Director Cullens immediately contacted Castle Command and issued the order to stand down.  Confused agents knowing of the assault force on the South Lawn acknowledged the orders, uneasy of what in reality was about to occur.

With the agents stagnate in the West Wing, Mitchell gave the order and the assault for the Oval Office began.

Within moments, the all clear was given and Mitchell entered the Oval Office in the company of Marshals.

                “How nice of the Vice President to ensure my well-being,” Tolebridge greeted Mitchell from the chair behind the President’s desk.

Mitchell stood, leaning on his cane, beside the desk.  Seeing folders and papers scattered across the desk, Mitchell recognized one file and slide it out of the pile to in front of him.

                “Tolebridge, you have one chance.  Step aside or else.”  Mitchell spoke in a low voice.  “There is only one President, and you are not him.”

                “What are you going to do?” Tolebridge was enflamed by Mitchell’s show of force.  “You think you can threaten me with your little army?  You are weak; weak physically, weak publically, weak politically.  I’ll let you finish out your term as my Vice President.  Just go back to the hospital and I will take care of everything.”

                “Tolebridge, you are toying with the wrong person.  Step aside now.”

                “Mitchell, don’t growl at me, get out.  Agents remove this man.”  Tolebridge issued his order like a king dismissing the soon to be executed.

The agents just stood there. 

                “My turn,” Mitchell smiled then grimaced as he stepped with his bad leg.  Pointing at Tolebridge, Mitchell ordered, “Marshals, take this man into custody.  Charge him with treason, espionage, and whatever else you deem appropriate.”  Pointing at the former Speakers aides, “And take these men; felony trespass, conspiracy to commit treason and espionage.”

Tolebridge sat in his chair with a look of disbelief.  How could this be happening?  He was the President and the Secret Service was disobeying his direct orders.  This was mutiny. 

The former Speaker’s aides stood beside him uncertain of what had just happened.  This was their boss’s office, not Mitchells.  How could they be arrested?  The shock of the moment struck them with full force; they had picked the wrong side.

The Marshals immediately grabbed each man and started walking them out the door without any resistance.  Before Tolebridge was pulled out of the Oval Office, Mitchell called to the federal marshals.  “Make sure they are all held.  No bail; they are threats to the United States and are flight risks.”

                “Take your hands off me, now.  I’m the President of the United States.”  Tolebridge yelled to no avail as he twisted and pulled, trying to break the grip of the arrest team.  He let his body go limp and eventually was drug from the office and down the hallway.

Joshua Mitchell moved around the desk and took the President’s seat; his seat.  He opened the folder that he pulled from the pile: the file marked " Whiplash.

 

 

V

 

Mitchell placed his leg up on an open drawer of the desk.  It was quickly becoming obvious the pain medication had worn off.  In the outer office, the attending physician from George Washington University is discussing the President’s condition with the White House physician.  After giving assignments to the Marines on hand, augmenting the current uniformed security force for the White House, Director Cullens had stepped outside to the West Colonnade with Agent Roberts.  Torrance Evans was on his cell, pacing, while Chief Justice Harkness took the chair near the President’s desk.

                “Mr. President, now that you have secured the Presidency I suggest you get some rest as soon as possible.”

                “Sir, I know you were Jim’s friend.  I wish you to be mine as well.  You can start by calling me Joshua.”

                “Alright Joshua, you need to get some rest.”

                “I need to set some things in motion first.”  Mitchell opened the file marked ‘Whiplash’.  “Jim had me prepare for this moment.  I hated putting this file together; it was the homework assignment that never went away.”

                “And now you’re thankful he had you do it.”

Mitchell simply sat there and nodded his head

                “Josh, er, Mr. President, I am so sorry about Constance.”  Mary Johnson has just entered the Office, her eyes red and puffy.  Mary had been Jim Hart’s personal secretary for his six years in the Oval Office and for the 16 prior years when he was the ‘Good Senator’ from Ohio.

                “Mary, why are you still here?  You should be home with Frank.”  Mitchell rose and took several painful steps on his throbbing leg.  As he reached Mary, she suddenly was sobbing.  As the President placed his arm around her, she hugged him like a lost child.  Mitchell flinched from the pain.

                “Why did they do it?  I just don’t understand who could do something like this?  Why hurt the President and Carolyn?  Or you and Constance.”    After composing herself, she answered Mitchells’ question: “After, the shooting, we were inundated with phone calls.  We fielded what he could.  The Speaker had barged in shortly after the shooting and took charge here.  Then after the announcement about Jim”, she paused for a moment to control herself, “the Speaker walked out and returned with several agents, a judge, and a film crew, saying he was the President.  A few minutes later, he came out and grabbed all the phone messages off my desk, ordered the safe opened, and then demanded I make calls for him.  Finally an agent came in and quietly advised everyone that you were sworn in.  All the staff went down to the dining room to hide out until everything was settled.”

In the doorway between the Oval Office and the outer reception area the doctors stood quietly, disapproving looks on their faces.  There are things the President of the United States has to do.  He had to leave the hospital early and confront his enemy for the sake of the nation, for the sake of the Constitution.  Consoling immediate staff after the passing of his predecessor is understandable.  But he needs to take care of himself or he won’t be President long.  In response to their disapproving understanding, Mitchell eased his bandaged chest from Mary’s arms and slowly walked her to his desk.  Harkness offered her the chair he had been sitting in.

                “Mary,” Mitchell taking his seat and returning his leg to the desk drawer, “I need you to make some calls before you go home.”

Mary quickly dashed to her desk in the outer office and returned with her steno pad and a handful of tissues, taking the seat beside the desk.

                “Mr. President,” now it’s Commander John Nichols U.S.N., the White House physician, “you need to call it a day and get some rest.”

                “Commander, I am very aware of needing rest.  My leg, chest, and shoulder are throbbing with pain.  I need to do this so I can call it a day.”  Looking down at Whiplash and reading for a moment, he turned to Mary, “I want the Cabinet with their undersecretaries here at 9.  Get me the Attorney General, Secretary of State, Secretary of Defense, Secretary of Homeland Security, Director of Central Intelligence, FBI Director " Tory is over on the couch, Secret Service " Stephen is outside in the Colonnade, Chief of the Capitol Police, and the Chief of Metro PD.  Have them here at 7 with liaisons.   I want the Congressional Leadership here at 6, they won’t be happy with my news.  No need calling the Speaker, he is indisposed.” 

                “I want the Joint Chiefs here at 10:30.  And I want both Jims’ and my staffs here at 6. Let them know it’s going to be a long day and I will be squeezing them in however I can.  Mary, when you make your calls, simply say ‘the President’ wants them.  If they protest, then identify me by name: but only if they protest.”

Mary rose, and started towards the door.

                “Mary, I’m sorry I’m keeping you so late.  Your first call is to Frank.  Have him come get you.  When you are finished with the calls, you’re out of here " no excuses.  And I don’t want to see you here tomorrow.  Spend the day with Frank eating chocolate and watching old movies, and I will see you on Thursday.  Understand?”

                “Yes, sir.”  Mary walked to the doorway, then paused and turned.  “I wish it was Jim here, but I’m glad it’s you and not Tolebridge.”  She turned back, stepped out of the Office and began her calls.

Commander Nichols was at the desk, his bag open, already beginning his examination of the wounded President.

                “Do you mind if I work while you do that.” The President was leafing through Whiplash. 

                “Mr. President, this would be easier in my office.  As soon as I am finished, you need to sleep.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Josh, I have an assignment for you.”

                “Sure Boss, what do you have in mind?”  Joshua was in the overstuffed armchair opposite Hart.  As he stirred his coffee he wondered how much silver he was digesting with each cup of this ‘navy coffee’.

                “When I was elected, I already had most of my cabinet appointments selected.  The few remaining positions were filled during November and December.  I want you to prepare a list of candidates for Vice President and your cabinet, in the event something should happen to me.  You have two days.”

                “Boss, I don’t want to be President.”  Josh looked at Hart with a look of disbelief.  “You’re lucky to get me as Vice President.  Now you’re pushing your job off on to me?  I thought we had a deal.”

                “What are you going to do if something happens to me, and you are forced to assume the Presidency?”

                “I’ll do whatever it takes to have you resurrected to complete your term.  The day you leave office, I’ll send you back to the mortician.”

Jim Hart shook his head.  Joshua Mitchell was usually a force to be reckoned with and today was no different.  For a moment, Hart considered just how serious Mitchell was.

                “Joshua, I’m serious.  If something happens, you will not have the luxury of time to prepare.  You need to have a team in mind that you can control and work with.  Here is a list of every position from me through the cabinet and the senior advisors and directorships.  You have two days to scare me with your choices.”

                “So, Boss, what about the assignment you have for me?”

                “Mitchell, this isn’t a joke.  I’m absolutely serious about this.  You are a heartbeat away from my chair.  You need to be prepared.”

Joshua stood and walked over to the couch where his suit coat laid.  He pulled his wallet out of the inside pocket and returned to his chair.  Opening the wallet, he pulled a folded paper out and handed it to the President.  He then put his wallet into his back pocket

Hart carefully unfolded the paper and began to read:

Whiplash

President                       James Hart     Joshua Mitchell

Vice President              Joshua Mitchell                                 Whitney Marshall

                                 Thomas Sullivan

                                 Hutton Collins

State                                Eric Cord         William Cotton

Treasury                         Steven Johns                                     Richard Crest

Defense                          Carl Jenkins   Steven Lafayette

Justice                             James Thinbold                                 Christopher Haas

Interior                            Ann Simpson                                     Michael Adams

Agriculture                     Elizabeth Carter           Susan Atwater

Commerce                     Henry Sutter                                      James Hutchens

                                 Tyler Moore

Labor                                Thomas Cable                                    Alice Hold

                                 Richard Duncan

Health and Human Services                         Lindsey March                                   Susan Allison                     

                Health, Education, and Welfare                            Peter Wallace

Housing and Urban Development            James Hutchens                               (see Commerce)

Transportation             Carlton Agnew                                  Peter Nitch

Energy                             Peter Nitch    (see Interior)

Education                       Susan Allison                                      (see HEW)

Veterans Affairs                          Peter Wallace                                    (see DoD)

Homeland Security     Woodward Hampton                     Thomas Johnson

 

                “Whiplash?”

                “I figured that was an appropriate title.  It was either that or Ambush.  Either way it describes how I and the nation will feel if I end up as President.”

                “Joshua, you succeeded in scaring me.  Actually these are some excellent choices.  I see you are choosing governors for your V.P.”

                “Well Boss, if they can run a state, they are better fit than a Congressman.  They are accustomed to making and keeping budgets, to actually leading a government.  Most of the people on Capitol Hill are clueless about leading.  They think they are fit for the job here because they chaired some committees for 10 to 20 years.  I doubt they even remember the last time they went to a grocery store to actually shop.”

                “I wouldn’t say Congressmen are that bad as V.P.s,” Jim chuckled.  “I got a descent one!  I understand your point, though, and would have to agree for the most part.  Now expand the list to include senior staff, advisors, and directorships.  And give me scenarios in which you become President, and your responses to those events.”

                “You know, Jim, you can really be a pain.  The resurrection bit is sounding more and more favorable.”

Hart simply shook his head and returned to his desk.

*     *     *     *     *

Cullens reentered the Office from the Colonnade, followed by Roberts. 

                “Mr. President, I have decided, with your approval, to make Agent Roberts head of your protection detail.”

                “And if I don’t approve, Stephen?”  Roberts was probably a good poker player: she didn’t flinch, though Mitchell read something in her eyes.

                “Sir, I would never impose anything on you, but she would still be the head of your protection detail.”

                “Glad to hear it, Stephen.  But next time I give an order, I expect it followed and not second guessed and overridden by a doctor.”

Roberts and Mitchell locked eyes for a moment, and then Roberts looked down at the floor and began looking for a seam in the carpeting to crawl into.  “Sir, that won’t happen again.”

Cullens was surprised by the interaction between the two, and noted the pained look on the Presidents face. 

“In that case, I approve.  Stephen, Agent Roberts is to join you tomorrow morning along with your liaison agent.  Agent Roberts, I suppose you have quite a bit to discuss with me.  We will find time tomorrow to talk.  Stephen, I want her personnel file when you arrive tomorrow.”  Turning his attention to Commander Nichols; “Will that be okay with you, doctor?”

The Commander simply grunted as he put his things into his bag and slid several bottles of medication to the President.  “These pills will help with the pain.  Follow the directions: I don’t need a President overdosing.  I will be in tomorrow to check on you.  Agent Roberts, make sure he takes these and gets some sleep.  If he can’t sleep, there are sleeping pills.”  With that the Commander excused himself and left the Office.

                “Tory, if you have a minute.”  Mitchell didn’t hesitate to immediately take his pain medication and antibiotics.  Evans walked over to the desk as the President was closing the pill bottles.  He had been talking to the Chief Justice for several minutes.  “What do we know so far, Tory?”

                “Mr. President, we have confirmation on some of the identities.  We are knocking on judges doors as we speak for search warrants.  I’ll have more for you in the morning.”  Torrance Evans was appointed by James Hart to the directorship at the beginning of his first term.  In his early days, Evans worked as an investigator with the Colorado State Attorney General’s office, where he gained notoriety first for breaking the Rojas Cartel, then for his investigation leading to the removal and conviction of a popular governor and US senator on corruption charges.

                “Let the Attorney General know about the arrests of the Speaker and company.  He gets the press release.  Tory, I’m letting you know now; A/G will have the lead with the investigation.  You will be his bloodhound.   I respect you too much to wait until the morning to tell you.”

                “Mitchell, we are the FBI.  This is what we do.  We take the lead on this.”  Evans was furious with the idea of second fiddle.

                “Evans, the nation lost her President and First Lady.  I lost the love of my life.  Someone let a hit squad set up at the nation’s Capital.  Who missed the chatter?  Who missed the clues?  Are you willing to stand in front of the nation and take full responsibility?  Then your successor can take the lead on the investigation.  But be careful of your answer, because if you take responsibility, when the nation is done with you, I’m coming after you.”

Evans face went from red with fury, to even redder with indignation of being accused of letting a terrorist cell pull off an assassination, to white with the realization and fear of an angry man accusing him of letting his wife be murdered. 

                “Do you want my resignation, Mr. President?”

                “No Tory, I want your friendship and experience at my side.  And I want everyone involved caught, tried, convicted, and executed.  I know you will find them and put them in jail.  The A/G has to insure me of the rest.  This isn’t some contest between bulls, to see who is the toughest.  As far as that goes, I’m the biggest and meanest bull in the arena.   Tory, this is going to get ugly.  Someone failed somewhere down the line.”

Evans understood where the President was coming from, though he didn’t like it.  He nodded his head in acceptance.  Someone failed somewhere down the line.  This really is going to get ugly.  Torrance Evans whispered a silent prayer, praying it wasn’t his failure.

                “Sir, you need to get some rest.  Upstairs isn’t ready for you yet.  Marine One is on approach to take you to the Observatory.”  Roberts was already handling her principal.

                “The office is a mess.  I can’t leave with all these files out.  And I doubt I will be sleeping tonight.”

                “Mitch, you won’t really be sleeping for a while.”  Evans had shifted gears from Director to support group, remembering his own sleepless nights after Liz died.  “Use the sleeping pills.  I’m sure the agent won’t let you oversleep.”

Looking at Evans, pain to pain, Mitchell knew he would be using the sleeping pills.  “Alright, Agent Roberts, take me home.”  Finding a briefcase, Evans and Harkness stuffed the classified folders inside, while Cullens was on the phone.  The Chief Justice and FBI Director looked at each other in wonder and laughed, both men expecting the briefcase to explode from bulging so much.  “Gentlemen, would you like a lift?

                “Thank you, Mr. President, but I’ve arranged transportation for us.”  Cullens thought how convenient it was to simply tell an agent to drive him home.

Roberts tried to have her charge carried or wheeled out to Marine One, but Mitchell insisted that the American public needed to see him walk, even if it meant using the cane.  Resigned to his argument, Roberts picked up the bulging briefcase and followed the President out to the awaiting helicopter. 

The White House Press Corps was out in full force.  As President Mitchell slowly made his way across the South Lawn, applause began and grew; first from the White House staff and then from the Press Corps.

Mitchell stopped, turned, and waved.  He did his best to mask the pain as he paused. Then he turned back towards Marine One to carefully board.  I hope the honeymoon lasts.

 

 

VI

 

                 “This is breaking news from the BBC.  We have just confirmed reports that the United                  States Marshals have taken John Tolebridge, Speaker of the United States House of    Representatives, into custody.  He is being held on charges of treason and espionage.                              In addition to Tolebridge, four aides were taken into custody on related charges.  It is               unknown at this time whether their charges are in connection to the assassination of                                James Hart or the oath of office taken by Tolebridge.”

                “We have been told by the United States Capitol Police, that in addition to the                  Presidential Party, 16 members of the security detail were killed and 9 were wounded.                             A number of bystanders were injured to some extent during the shooting.”

                We are being told that an assassination team of 15 persons was involved, with only one                assassin surviving.  The identities of the assassins are being withheld at this time, due to                                the sensitivity of the investigation.  A spokesperson with the Federal Bureau of      Investigation, speaking on condition of anonymity, stated that the investigation is     underway with a number of search warrants already having been served.  No group has                    publicly taken responsibility for the act as yet.”

                “The identities of Secret Service Agents are still being withheld pending notification of                  next of kin.

*     *     *     *     *

A man of medium stature is pacing back and forth inside a dimly lit room.  He pauses in front of his television, and lights a cigarette.

                “The Americans are tearing themselves apart.  They don’t know what is happening or who is in control.  In their confusion we are becoming stronger and they will be unable to stop us.” 

                “Sir, when do we start the next phase?

                “It has already begun.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Alf, this news about Tolebridge’s arrest is disturbing.  Are we missing something regarding Mitchell?  Is there more that you can shed on this?”  Prime Minister David is sitting behind his desk.

                “Moshe, Mitchell is the rightful heir to the American Presidency in accordance to their laws.  What is being passed on to us is that Tolebridge assumed the Presidency in contradiction to their laws and refused to step down in obedience to their Constitution.  He didn’t think Mitchell had the courage to stand up to him.  And now we know he does.”

                “So we are seeing Mitchell dealing with someone encroaching upon the Presidency.  Will we be seeing more of this?”

                “I don’t think so, but we can expect a shakeup amongst his senior advisors.”

                “Do you have any further insights into this Lion, Alf?  And did Tolebridge have a hand in the death of Hart?”

                “First, Mitchell is dangerous.  He is wounded physically, and emotionally.  He is wounded and yet he is taking down challengers to his authority.  When was the last time you watched a wounded lion not only stand its’ ground, but engage in battle and win?  He did not run away to lick his wounds; he embraced the battle.  This man is more than people have seen.  We must walk carefully with him.  As for Tolebridge, two men stood between himself and the Presidency.  Hart was murdered and they tried to kill Mitchell at Tolebridge’s front door.  It would be convenient, but foolish of Tolebridge; everyone would immediately suspect him.  They are already pointing at him.  No, I believe he was foolish and acted on the opportunity, but I do not believe he was involved in this assassination.  He is politically treacherous, but he isn’t a murderer.”

                “So Mitchell is an ally we can trust if we do not cross him.  Am I reading him right, Alf?”

                “Moshe, we want this Lion.  And you are right, we can trust him if we don’t cross him.”

*     *     *     *     *

In London, at 85 Vauxhall Cross, analysts were busy going over reports from Washington.  News reports were blaring over the televisions.  Behind closed doors, Sir Colin Caulifax, KCMG, chief of MI-6, was reviewing a file while speaking with Prime Minister James Wilson on a secure line.

                “James, everything we are seeing is understandable.  This is what we have learned: Tolebridge got greedy and tried to pull a power play on Mitchell.  Obviously, he underestimated Mitchell.  And from what I am learning, this is a common and sometimes politically fatal error.”

                “But jail him for treason and espionage?”  Wilson shook his head.  “This Mitchell is wild and dangerous.  Can we rely on him?”

                “Yes, the United States has a very specific order of succession to the Presidency.  It is defined in their Constitution. Mitchell was first in line to accept or decline the Presidency.  Tolebridge was second.  Tolebridge usurped the Presidency; that would be the act of treason.  If he were going through reports, files, and documents that were for the Presidents eyes only, that would be the acts of espionage.  He has no right of access unless he was a legitimate President.”

Wilson understood now.  “It would be like Harry taking the throne over Williams claim.  Do you think William has the guts to send Harry to the tower?”

                “I don’t think Harry would try to take the throne from his brother.  But we know Mitchell has the guts to deal with those who would oppose him.  Our analysis of Mitchell reveals a strong sense of right and propriety.  Tolebridge crossed the line and Mitchell dealt with him.”  Caulifax continued flipping through the file, stopping at a newspaper article.

                “James, did you see the newspaper clipping, the one interview from last year?  If we read it right, I’d say he is a man who didn’t want to be President.”

                “No, what does it say?”

                “Mitchell turned down the Vice Presidency twice before accepting.  And the third time, he stayed up all night contemplating.  If he was reluctant to be Vice President, I doubt he wanted to be President.”

                “Help me out here, Colin.  Joshua Mitchell didn’t want to be President.  He had first right to accept or refuse.  Tolebridge made his claim for the office out of order, taking the office Mitchell didn’t want.  So Mitchell took the office, even though he didn’t want it, and put Tolebridge in jail for not waiting his turn?”  James Wilson took a deep breath and wondered if he followed his own jumbled thought.  “This is lunacy.”

                “James, he took the Presidency because it was what was right.  He didn’t run from it, even though it was the last thing he wanted.  This speaks highly of his character.  If we can show him something is right or wrong, we can manipulate him.  And as for taking the Presidency, I believe he was acting to protect the office against Hart’s foe.”

                “Colin, do we have any indication that Tolebridge had a hand in the assassination?  Or was his a crime of opportunity?” 

Colin Caulifax sat staring at the wall.  “The Americans are trying to sort out what they have.  Hispanic and Middle Eastern shooters; I am guessing probably noncitizens.  If that is true, the US will want to know who and why.  I don’t believe Tolebridge had a hand in the assassination, otherwise the Americans wouldn’t hesitate to say it.”

                “I just wish we had more to go on with this Mitchell.  How solid is your analysis, Colin?”

                “I wish we had more to build on here as well, but what we do have is solid.  I’ll have a copy sent over to Downing St.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Grigori, how concerned are we with the events in Washington?”

                “Ivan Anatoly, I do not pity Tolebridge.  Joshua is the wrong man to cross.  Concerned?  Only that Tolebridge tried to seize the President’s office.  Mitchell taking his office with force is totally understandable.  When he walked into the President’s office, there was no doubt of the outcome.  I would have been concerned if Joshua Robert hadn’t confronted Tolebridge like he did.”

                “Mitchell seizing the White House like that sounds like someone pulling a coup.  And a lot like the old days of the Party Secretary.”

                “It was Mitchell putting an end to a coup.  According to our report, the primary reason for the force was to augment security.  Apparently he was concerned that there would be a gun fight in the hallways.  A source from inside their security force stated that all White House security stood down before Mitchell entered.  When he walked in, he was in total control.”

                “The man is smart and dangerous.”

                “Yes he is, just like during the negotiations in Turkey; smart and dangerous.  Gorbachev and Reagan eventually became friends.  I think it would be wise to befriend Joshua Robert.  It never hurts to side with the biggest dog in the fight.” 

 

 

VII

 

                “I wish I was standing at the bottom of the steps right now.”

                “Why?  So this would all be over?”

                “No, I would be watching the most beautiful woman walking to me.”

                “Joshua, they’ll hear you.” 

                “I really don’t care.  You are the prettiest girl, and when we get to the bottom, I am going to give you the biggest, most drawn out kiss in history.”

                “What will James say?”

                “That he wished he could kiss like me.” 

                “Hey Junior, save that for later; we’re working here.”

                “You’re only jealous because your old lungs can only last for a peck on the cheek.”

                “Watch it, Junior.  I’ll show you kissing when we get down there.”

                “James.” 

                “See what you started, Joshua.”

                “Remember Boss, the Navy trained me to hold my breath for a long time.  Besides, you’re one of those old, old Amish from the backwoods of Ohio; they don’t believe in smooching.”

                “Don’t give me that old Amish bit; just you wait until we get to the bottom.” 

                “WHAT’S THAT?  WHO’S SHOOTING AT US?”

                “JOSHUA!”

                “CONNIE, TAKE MY HAND.  SWEETIE, TAKE MY HAND.”

                “JOSHUA, PLEASE HELP ME.”

                “I CAN’T MOVE.  JUST REACH OUT AND TAKE MY HAND.  NO.  NO. NOT CONNIE.  OH GOD, WHY DID YOU SHOOT HER?  CONNIE?”

                “AAAUUUGGHHH”

Within seconds, the room was filled with Secret Service agents and Marines.  In the center of the crowd sat Joshua Mitchell in a recliner, looking around the living room wildly, and then with recognition.

                “Sir, what’s wrong?”  Agent Roberts, holstering her Sig, knelt next to the recliner in the living room.

                “I’m sorry.  Everyone out, I’m fine.”  The President did his best to reposition himself in the recliner.  He couldn’t hold back the groans and grimaces.

No one left.  A navy corpsman made his way to the recliner and began checking Mitchell’s vitals.

                “Marines, return to your posts.  That’s an order.  Agents, get out of here.”

The Marines looked at their Captain, and then quickly came to attention, saluting the President and turned to leave.

                “MARINES.”  Every one stopped and quickly turned at the call of the Commander-in "Chief.  Mitchell stood, fighting the pain and his bodies desire to collapse, rose to his full height and returned the salute.  “Any man or woman willing to surrender their life for their nation deserves the honor of their salute being returned.”

Mitchell returned to the recliner, and the attention of the corpsman.  The Marines left the room, returning to their posts.  Roberts looked at her charge with a raised eyebrow.  Upon her command, the detail returned to their posts.  As the agents opened the door to leave, Mitchell heard “OORAH”.  A half smile came to Roberts lips as she shook her head.  Moments later, all that remained with the President were Roberts and the Navy corpsman.

                “I’m sorry about scaring all of you.  I dosed off.  I don’t know how long I slept, but it seemed as if I was back on the Capitol steps.  I was turning to Connie to protect her and then felt pain searing through my body.  I opened my eyes and every one was in the room.  What time is it, Agent Roberts?”

                “It’s 0400, sir.”

                “Agent Roberts, can you find me an attendant.  It’s time to get up and get ready for work.”

                “You need to rest some more, Sir.”

                “Don’t go all Mother on me.  I know I need to rest more.  I can nap later.  Can you find me an attendant or do I go this on my own?”

                “I’ll help you, Sir.”  The corpsman stood and handed his medic pack to Roberts.

Joshua Mitchell stood, being supported on either side by Roberts and the Lieutenant.  God, I’m in pain; physically, mentally, emotionally in pain.  Oh God, help me.  America needs a leader.

In the bathroom, Mitchell soon realized how much he takes for granted as he tried to dress himself and tie his shoes.  The corpsman knew better than to try to help.  He simply stood by until the President finally cried ‘Uncle’.

After an hour later, the President slowly made his way out to his waiting limousine.  Joining him were Roberts with the bulging briefcase and the corpsman.  Behind them several agents walked to one of the SUVs with a couple of Mitchell’s suits, a suitcase, and a couple of file boxes.  The convoy left the Naval Observatory and proceeded out Massachusetts Avenue.

*     *     *     *     *

The President slowly made his way through Castle to the Keep.

                “Good morning Doug, you’re covering the outer office today?”

                “Yes sir, Mr. President.”  Doug Harshorne, 25, was one of Mary’s minions, without whom the Oval Office would collapse. 

                “Did Mary leave you this morning’s schedule?”

                “I just got off the phone with her.  She has me up to speed on who to expect.”

                “Fine, did she say where to put them?”

                “She said to hold the Congressional leadership in the Roosevelt, staffs in the Blue room, the Directors and their liaisons in the Cabinet Room.  The others she said to play by ear.”

                “And that’s why she makes the big bucks and runs the store.” 

Mitchell directed the agents to put his belongings in his private study, and then proceeded to the Blue Room.

*     *     *     *     *

                “Good morning, I don’t have much to say to you yet.  Today is going to be a long day.  I will need you to bear with me.  I will be meeting with you throughout the day as I find time.  For now, get some breakfast and coffee and go about your day.  Jack, you and Mike are with me.  Pete, you’re tagging along.”

Mitchell walked out of the Blue Room and returned to the Oval office.  Following behind him was Jack Diggs, Mike Rodgers, and Pete Phillips.

                “Jack, you were Jim’s Chief of Staff.  Do you think you can work for me?”

                “Sir, I can do the job.  I just don’t know if I want the job.”  Jack Diggs had been a long term staffer going back to James Hart’s senatorial days.  Hart made Jack his campaign manager when he ran for his first term as President.  While most initially shot down Hart’s chances, Jack was Jim’s #2 cheerleader right behind Hart’s wife, Carolyn.

                “At least you are up front about it, Jack.”

                “Mr. President, I stood at the top of the steps and watched as my boss, his wife, your wife, and so many others were murdered.  The photo op was my idea.  I woke up shaking, in a cold sweat and couldn’t go back to sleep.  Joyce and I were up the rest of the morning.  I was crying on the way in this morning, and I don’t cry.”

Mitchell nodded his head in an understanding manner.

                “Mike, are you with me?”

                “Sir, I’m with you.”  Mike Rodgers had been the Vice President’s Chief of Staff.  At work, Mike was all business.  Formerly an exec at Microsoft, Rodgers knew how to run an office and wring every drop of inspiration from his staff.  After hours though, Mike was a character.  Pairing Rodgers and Mitchell together was like a flame to gasoline.  Constance Mitchell claimed Rodgers and her husband were siblings separated at birth.

                “Pete?”

                “I’m ready, Sir, no problem.”  Peter Phillips, Director of Communications.  The senior staff nicknamed him “The Voice”; if the President said it, it’s as good as gospel and Pete would tell the world.  And as far as the press corps is concerned, there was no more effective and trusted communicator than Phillips.  If Pete Phillips says it, it’s true.

                “Jack, the job’s yours as long as you want it.  Believe me, I understand.”  Mitchell was sitting on the corner of his desk, remembering his own nightmare.

*     *     *     *     *

Inside the Roosevelt Room, the Congressional Leadership was bristling.  No one likes waiting, especially Senators and Representatives " some of whom had a far greater sense of self-importance than reality would say.  And to be ordered by Tolebridge to the White House so early.  Seated in the room were the President pro tem, the Senate Majority and Minority Leaders with their assistants, and the House Majority and Minority Leaders with their whips.  The door opened and Jack Diggs entered.

                “Ladies and Gentlemen, the President of the United States.”

Everyone in the room rose.  The expression on the faces of some was showing obvious annoyance.  Joshua Mitchell entered the room.  A gasp could be heard and the expression of many changed.  Obviously none of the ‘gaspers’ listened to the news this morning and were expecting John Tolebridge to be strolling in.

                “Good morning.  Please be seated and please forgive me for the delay.  Getting around is a bit difficult.  I know it is early and this isn’t a breakfast meeting.  We have a big job ahead of us.  First, I have the displeasure of advising you that the Speaker of the House, John Tolebridge, was taken into custody with several others for several crimes against the United States.”

                “Sir, can you elaborate on what the charges are?”  Senator Lewis Moore asked.

                “Senator, Mr. Tolebridge violated the Constitution of the United States in an effort to usurp the Office of the President.  He has been charged with treason, espionage, and trespass.  If there are other charges, I am unaware at this time.”

An uneasy silence filled the Roosevelt Room.  The Congressmen looked at each other, the realization of the situation slowly being understood.

                “I assume there are witnesses to these crimes?”  Again, Moore.

                “The Director of the F.B.I., the Director of the United States Secret Service, the Chief Justice of the United States, members of the United States Marine Corps, and a number of Federal Marshals, and Secret Service agents.”  Mitchell spoke slowly, enunciating each witness as if deliberately swinging a hammer down on a nail; when he finished, there was no way to pull that nail out.

Lewis Moore didn’t fluster easily.  He pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket and mopped his forehead.  Tolebridge was cooked.

                “When will the nation be told?”

                “The news is already carrying the story.  The Attorney General will be making the official announcement this morning.”  That point is settled, “Obviously, the House will be selecting a new Speaker today.”

The House leadership sat quietly, nodding their heads.

                “The next issue is the selection of a Vice President.  I plan to submit the name of Governor Whitney Marshall of Virginia.  I hope for your support.  I will be calling her this morning to extend the position to her.”

The room nodded in agreement.  Marshall was a smart move, being popular with both parties.

                “Regarding the assassination, I have little information at this time; I will be meeting with the investigators and commission shortly.  There will be a news conference later.  As for changes in the Administration, I do not anticipate any.  I will be meeting with the Cabinet later this morning.  Ladies and Gentlemen, there is much that is needed to be done, so if there are no further questions or comments, I will send you on your way.”

The leadership was completely caught off guard with the meeting.  Few anticipated seeing Mitchell this morning, and the news of the arrest of Tolebridge completely took the wind out of many there; especially members of the House.  The Leadership stood and shook hands with Mitchell, each extending their condolences for the loss of his wife and wishing him the best of luck in office.

*     *     *     *     *

Taking his seat at the conference table, the President started appraising those seated around him.  Mitchell opened a folder in front of him; Roberts, Cassandra.  He leafed through it briefly.  She’s a Marine, rank of Captain.  Three tours of duty in the Gulf.  She received two purple hearts and a bronze star.  Completed sniper training, with four confirmed kills.  She’s someone not to upset.  Looking to his left, seated next to Director Cullens, was Roberts.  Apparently she figured he was looking at her personnel file, because as Mitchell closed the folder and placed it beneath the Whiplash folder, she was shifting uneasily in her seat.  The President opened Whiplash and read through several pages.

                “Director Evan’s, what do we know so far, regarding the investigation?”

                “Mr. President, we have identified all 15 of the gunmen.  One is alive, fourteen are dead.  Six middle eastern descent, nine Hispanics.  We have search warrants for all of them.  Teams are processing each location.  We should have our preliminary reports within several hours.”

                “Gentlemen, before we go any further, I need to advise you that I am angry.  I am very, very angry.  And I don’t know what I’m more angry about; the assassination of a President by a hit squad, or the murder of my wife by the same team.”  The atmosphere became stifling.  The heaviness in the room could be seen on every face.

                “Attorney General Thinbold, you are to appoint a special prosecutor to oversee the investigation.  I want solid convictions of all involved.  Fail me, and you’ll find a new job " is that understood?”  Thinbold nodded, and his liaison " Ronald Agnew " swallowed hard.  No pressure.  The President continued, “Director Evans, the Bureau is at their disposal.  You will appoint a liaison to report to the special prosecutor.”  Tory Evans flinched, remembering the discussion hours earlier, but nodded his consent.  “And that goes for everyone here.  This is not some competition; I expect everyone here to cooperate to the fullest.  If I find out anyone is holding back, I will fire you.  I don’t care who you are.  Is that understood?”

Almost every head in the room was bobbing up and down.  And a number of faces looked frightened.  This is not the Joshua Mitchell they knew.

                “Cord, Jenkins, Evans, Huntington, how could this happen?  How did a multinational hit squad pull this off without anyone in the intelligence community knowing about them?  Don’t tell me there was no chatter anywhere.  Someone failed me.  Someone failed James Hart.  Someone failed the nation.”

                “You can’t lay this at our feet.”  Defense Secretary Jenkins protested. 

                “Don’t even start, Jenkins.  This is a post 9/11 world.  We’ve spent millions upon millions on communications surveillance.  We’re not talking about some homegrown cell.  This was a multinational hit.  People had to talk, to coordinate.  Don’t tell me that they pulled this off without our ability to uncover at least one fragment of intel.”

People in the room were starting to perspire.  The President is accusing the Intelligence community.  No one dared speak.

                “Huntington, your liaison will oversee the intel failure.  Preston, this is ugly already and it is going to get uglier.  Nothing gets swept under the rug.  N o t h I n g.”

CIA Director Preston Huntington simply nodded his head.

                “I want the intel community shaking the trees.  I want every lead followed up.  Cullens, you have a dirty job facing you.  I want every member of the detail, alive and dead, checked and rechecked.  If there was a turncoat, I want them found.  Roberts, I want just as frightening a background performed on the new detail.  Don’t make me replace you with Marines.  Tory, how did we get the one gunman alive?

                “Mr. President, commendable restraint on the part of the Capitol Police.”

                “Excellent.  Thinbold, I expect the name of the special investigator and those of the liaisons on my desk in an hour.  Lady and Gentleman, I want everyone involved caught, tried, convicted, and executed.  Don’t let me down.”

Mitchell stood and walked out of the room followed by Diggs, Rodgers, and Phillips.  Heads pivoted but no one said a word. It was another three minutes before most left in the Cabinet Room stopped shaking enough to stand.

*     *     *     *     *

Back in the Oval Office, the President is sitting with his leg up. 

                “Gentlemen, how am I doing?”  Mitchell is setting a glass down after swallowing his medication.

                “Boss, you’re scary.”  Diggs is comparing Mitchell and Hart in his mind as he answered. “Scary is good right now.  Everyone knows you are in charge.  There is no indecision.  You have nailed every point.”

                “You have people afraid to fail you, Boss.  Not only do they know you are in charge, they know their places and aren’t about to do something stupid.”  Rodgers continued, “Though I’m not too sure of Jenkins.  He didn’t like being accused of possibly screwing up on the intel.”

                “He serves at my pleasure, not I at his.  Either he submits or he is out.”

Pete Phillips is on the couch with his steno pad out.  “Boss, what are we telling the shark tank today?  They are going to be ramped up.”

                “Well, I’ve met with the Congressional Leadership, and will be meeting with the Cabinet and the Joint Chiefs shortly.  A multi-agency investigation is underway, headed up by Justice.  Any questions about the investigation get referred to Justice.  They can anticipate a top to bottom review of the Administration.  Details will be forthcoming in due course as the reviews progress.  Nothing yet about Marshall, I need to give her a call.  Regarding Tolebridge, I promised to protect, defend, and uphold the Constitution.  The nation has an expectation of their leaders to obey it.  Is that good for a start?”

                “Yeah, that’s really good.  They will want to know how you are doing.”

                “I spoke with my kids last night.  We will be taking this a day at a time.  I appreciate the prayers and support of the nation; that is what is carrying me through.  My recovery will be slow, as expected.  I ask for patience on the part of the press and the nation as I continue to heal, and lead the nation.”

                “Excellent wording, Boss.  Today will be an easy sell to the press corps.”

                “Okay gentlemen, now for the fireworks.”

*     *     *     *     *

Back in the Cabinet Room, the President is seated.  Before him is a ream of paper.

                “Ladies and Gentlemen, everyone is to take a sheet of paper.  I expect each sheet back bearing you resignations, effective immediately.”

The room turned silent.  Finally the Secretary of Defense broke the silence, “What happens if I don’t resign?”

                “Then you’re fired.  Is that clear enough?”

                “You come in here acting tough.  Earlier you accused me of killing Hart.  You need to know your place here.’  Jenkins chomped down on his pipe stem, feeling proud of standing up to the new President.

                “Secretary Jenkins, you serve at my pleasure; I don’t serve at yours.  Right now I’m not pleased.  Secretary Jenkins, do you know where the Speaker of the House currently is?  He is the guest of the federal government, residing in one of its finer jail cells.  I didn’t back down from him.  What makes you think I’ll back down from you?  Either I get your resignation, or you are fired.  You have one minute to decide.”

Carl Jenkins stood and walked to the door.  With his hand on the knob, he turned back to the table.  “Once I walk out this door, I won’t be coming back, MR. President.”

                “Once you walk through that door, I won’t take you back.  You will be done.  And I will not hesitate to tell the world how you walked out on me and this nation.”  Mitchell expected this.  Jenkins was a second-rate selection by Hart, with an attitude the size Chicago.  He was part of some backroom dealing to secure some otherwise unachievable legislation. Jim always stated he regretted this choice. 

Jenkins stood at the door waiting for the President to back down.  Mitchell looked down at his nails, giving them a close scrutiny.  Heads were swerving between the two as the tension grew.  Mitchell heard the door open, then slam.

                “Anyone wish to join MR. Jenkins?  How about you Eric, you have always backed his play.  Are you in or out?”

Eric Cord was a diplomat’s diplomat.  He could sweet talk practically anyone into anything.  It was irritating at times, how he could see both sides of an issue so clearly.  Several times he succeeded in talking Hart out of his actions, for better or worse.  The problem Mitchell faced was, as long as Cord was on the Cabinet, Jenkins was still there.  Roommates and blood brothers from Cornell, the two were a package deal.

Now all eyes were on Cord.

                “Sir, Jenkins was your ace in the hole for defense.  You are dangerous, too dangerous.”

Cord stood and walked out.

                “Anyone else?”  Heads were once more swiveling back and forth.  Now focusing on the undersecretaries, “Anderson, Williams, where do you stand?”

                “With you, Sir.’  Their responses were in unison.

                “Then you are acting Secretaries pending my appointments.  Get your respective security offices on the phone now.  I want to talk to them.”

As the acting Secretaries made their calls, the President made his.  “Castle command, this is Mitchell.  Escort MR. Jenkins and MR. Cord from the building.  All access is revoked immediately, they are persona non-gratis.  Make it happen.”

Anderson was the first to hand his phone to the President.  “This is the President.  MR. Jenkins is no longer associated with the Department of Defense.  All access is revoked immediately.  His ID, key cards and all Pentagon issued equipment are to be seized.  Have his office cleaned out and his personal property returned to him.  Mr. Anderson is acting Secretary of Defense. “   The President returned the phone to Anderson.

Williams handed his phone to Mitchell. 

                “President Mitchell, how do you want the resignations written?  I mean the wording, Sir?”  This was asked by Woodward Hampton, Secretary of Homeland Security.

                “I, your name and title, tender my resignation, effective immediately, upon the request of the President of the United States.  Then sign and date it.”

Now Mitchell turned his attention to the State Department and advised them regarding Cord.  As he looked around the table, heads were down, ink flowing onto paper. Diggs eyed Rodgers, an unbelievable look across his face.

After the resignations were written and signed, Mitchell passed out more paper for note taking.  “Now that we have decided where we all stand, let’s get down to business.  I want a full fiscal breakdown of each department.  I want to know how much you spend in salaries, how much in facilities.  I want a full breakdown of all programs: how much for each program and how much of that is administrative, again salary, facilities, supplies, and actual distribution.  You have one month to have them on my desk.”

Again, Mitchell scans through Whiplash.

                “Homework assignments:

                Treasury, I want a proposal to overhaul the tax code.  I want it simple and effective.  I want you to consider a combination of flat rates with and without deductions.   I also want a proposal for a national citizenry database.  I want it designed so that all agencies can access it.  There is no reason for the IRS to have a database separate from Social Security.  If a person dies, why is it that they stop paying taxes but continue to receive subsidies?

                State, you are to give me an analysis of the Middle East and the effect of a reduction in oil purchases from the United States.  I also want analysis of the Islamification of Mexico, Central, and South America, also of our NATO allies.  This is in addition to the development of a global dashboard; I want to be able to pick a nation at random and see its internal status, hot spots within its borders, programs we are involved in, and a weekly synopsis from the ambassador, a snapshot of their government and leadership.

                Defense, give me analysis of our ability to conduct two theaters of engagement, and deal with 3 hot zones.  I also want a proposal for a regional military response; that means if something happens in the Pacific, the Navy, Army, Marines, and Air Force act in unison and not as four separate entities vying for control.

                Justice, I want opposing papers on the legality of abortion.  I want real thought put to this, not just the historical arguments.  I also want a proposal to streamline the appellate process without violating Constitutional rights.  And I want a remedy to the challenges to the death penalty.

                Interior and Energy, you are to justify the existence of an Energy Department as a separate entity.  Also, I want a proposal for a realistic conversion from fossil fuel to other fuel forms for automobiles, and development and distribution of those energy sources.  I also want a plan to improve the distribution of power throughout the U.S.  Entire regions experiencing blackouts for weeks is unacceptable.

                Agriculture, give me justification of the subsidies you fund and a realistic economic impact if the subsidies are cancelled.

                Commerce and Labor, I want businesses returning to America.  How are you going to make it happen?  I also want you to justify your separate existences.

                Health and Human Services, you are to revisit the Patient Protection and Affordable Care Act of 2010.  I want a breakdown of the act and justification of each provision.  If there is a better way of a provision being handled, tell me.

                HUD, I want a full revamp of Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae.  How are you going to do it?  I also want you to justify your existence as an independent Department.

                Education, why have our public schools failed?  And I don’t want to hear how we haven’t spent enough money.  I also want you to justify your existence as an independent Department.

                Transportation and Veterans Affairs, justify your existence as independent Departments.  Veterans Affairs, I want a full revamp of your medical system.

                Homeland Security, I want realistic proposals concerning border security, immigration reform, the handling of illegal immigrants caught, and shutting down the cartels and their impact on the US.

                You each have two weeks to present your assignments.

                State, contact your counterparts in Australia, Canada, France, Germany, Great Britain, Israel, Japan, New Zealand, Russia, Saudi Arabia, and South Korea.  Introduce yourself, reassure them that nothing has changed between us, and let them know I will contact them personally over the next couple days.

                Defense, I will be meeting with the Joint Chiefs next, you’ll be joining us.

                The Federal government will be observing a forty day period of mourning.  Be conscious of your personnel.  Reassure them we are open for business.  Nothing has changed.  Be sensitive to any in need of counseling after what happened.

                Over the next week or two, I will be meeting with each of you to discuss your Departments.”

Rodgers leaned across Phillips and whispered to Diggs, “The boss is on a roll.”  Jack simply nodded his head.  Pete was in another world furiously scratching out notes.

*     *     *     *     *

Walking into the Situation Room, the atmosphere was different from that of the Cabinet Room.  The Chiefs stood and saluted, showing respect for the new Commander-in-Chief.  After the President returned the salute, each man stepped forward to greet Mitchell.  These men were gruff warriors, the ‘by the book’ type that ruled their branches firmly.  They knew chain of command and they knew where they stood, especially after the command shakeup Hart dealt them the previous month.

                “Gentlemen,’ Mitchell taking the nearest seat, thankful to get off his leg and beginning to feel the fatigue set in, “thank you for your support.  Is there any problems here with our forces going to Def-Con 3?”

                “Sir, no.  It was the smart thing to do.”  General Jackson Coles, U.S.M.C. was the newly appointed Chairman.  “Your move out the gate put a lot of people back on their heels.  We have seen noticeable responses globally.  We would like to discuss the hot spots with you.”

                “General, that is why we’re here - hot spots.  I’m mostly concerned with the Korean peninsula and the IDF.”

Admiral Samuel Ford handed Mitchell a red binder. 

                “Mr. President, Sir.  This is the updated conditions globally.  You will see a world map on the first page that gives a snapshot of where we stand.  Below the map you will find a color key explaining the map coloration.”

The Commander-in-Chief, perused the binder, then set it down

                “Gentlemen, I recommend taking our Middle East and Korean forces to Def-con 2.  Put a task force to sea in support of the peninsula.  I don’t trust Junior over there.  He’s rattled the sabre too many times, and I fear the nuclear button becoming a hair trigger.  I would like to put a missile boat or two in the proximity.”

                “Good move, Sir.  We will do that.”

                “I figured you to be the problem children.  You’ve made this too easy on me.  When is the other shoe going to drop?”  The President chuckled, shaking his head.

                “Sir, this is military not civilian.  You tell us, we are here to get it done, not argue about it.  Simple chain of command, we all know it and remember last month’s lesson.”

Mitchell nodded in agreement and began going through the binder again, page by page.

 

 

VIII

 

Sitting in her new office at Castle Command, Special Agent-in-Charge Cassandra Roberts is surveying her surroundings as she speaks with the Director on the phone.

                “Cass, he had a nightmare?”

                “Isn’t it to be expected?  Think about how our agents are responding.  That’s why the mandatory shrink.  All those rounds flew past him, his wife died, and he’s dealing with being the lone survivor.” Cass paused, “How do I make the President sit down with a shrink?”

                “I’ll talk to him.  Better yet, I’ll have Director Evans talk to him.”  Stephen Cullens recalled his conversations with Tory Evans after Evans’ wife died.  This subject is best broached by him.  “Sounds like you had an interesting first night with him.”

                “Boss, I was stopped by those jarheads three times.  They knew I am Service, they knew that I am the SAC and they still considered me a possible threat.”

                “Weren’t you a jarhead once?”  Roberts heard the Director chuckling on the other end of the line.  “Are they going to pose a problem for the detail?”

                “I hope not. No, I don’t think they will, although I suspect they adopted him.  When respect is shown to a Marine like the President did this morning, they become like a golden retriever that follows you everywhere.”

                “What happened?

                “After Mitchell scared all of us this morning with his nightmare, he dismissed us from the living room.  The Marines threw him a salute and turned to leave.  The President called out to them, and when they turned around he stood and returned their salute.  You could see the pain in his face, but he made sure the salute was returned.  When the detail went outside to their posts, the jarheads were giving an OORAH to the man.  Those don’t come cheaply.”

                “They are the Presidents own.  How was the ride in?”

                “He just sat in the Beast fingering the brim of his hat.  I tried to strike up a conversation with him, to get him talking.  He told me about the hat.  He said that he had a baseball cap from the Navy that he wore all the time.  His wife hijacked it from him and wore it.  She told him that it brought her closer to him because it was his during his time in the service.  She bought the black cowboy hat for him and told him it was the only hat he looked good in, other than the Navy cap.  That hat is the only one he’s worn since.”

                “Any word on how he is holding up on his first full day.”

                “You saw him in our meeting.  He had us escort the former Secretaries of State and Defense out after he fired them.  I’m hearing that he has really put a scare into the Cabinet, and put the Congressional leadership back on their heels.  I’ve seen a lot of shaking heads and pale faces today.”

                “Have you started the personnel review yet?”

                “I’ve called the F.B.I. liaison and requested two agents for handling the backgrounds.  I want it done independently of the Service, this way they can tear into us and see that we are clean.  I will be sitting down with them later this afternoon.”

                “Cass, watch him carefully, it will catch up to him soon.  Have you tagged him yet?’

                “Yes sir.  STETSON.”

                “STETSON?”

                “Yes sir.  He always wears that cowboy hat.  And in a lot of ways, he has a cowboy approach to situations, like last night.  But there has always been a touch of elegance to him and his wife.  Somehow RAWHIDE or COWBOY doesn’t fit.  The Stetson he wears is an elegant version of a cowboy hat.”

                “A sophisticated cowboy, that is interesting.  STETSON will work.  I will pass it on to the White House Communication Agency.”

*     *     *     *     *

James Thinbold, Attorney General of the United States, sat in his office at the Justice Department.  On the desk before him was the booking paperwork of the United States’ current most notorious arrestee; John Tolebridge, former Speaker of the House of Representatives.  Charges: treason, sedition, conspiracy to commit sedition, espionage, and burglary.  This man went from the head of the class to the gutter very fast. 

The Attorney General stared at the charges.  All of them were right for what he did, yet impossible to convict of.  Yes, he committed treason.  Yet the Constitution states it must be an act of war or aiding and abetting an enemy.  Thinbold knew the Constitution well and he knew the arguments the founding fathers used to so narrowly define the highest crime in the land.  Worse, Tolebridge knew the Constitution better than most judges.  If they really wanted a true jury of his peers, it would need to be the United States Supreme Court.

This case required the wisdom and genius that spawned the Constitution.  Attorney General Thinbold had gone through a list of attorneys, the brightest the Department had.  One name stood out above all the rest - John Lincoln.  Lincoln had handled a number of cases, most beneath his genius.  They were given to him solely because the Department was lacking someone else to handle them.  Lincoln really was at Justice for his genius.  He was discovered in the Los Angeles office after he stepped in and took over a case about to go under; he obtained convictions on several West Coast Mafia bosses.  From there he was quickly moved to Washington where he acted in the capacity of an oracle, offering advice to any and all; wisdom that saved more than one case.

Thinbold was brought back from his ponderings of the case by a rap on the door.

                "Come in."

                "Boss, I was told you needed to see me."

                "Have a seat John.  I'm sitting here trying to figure out how we are going to try Tolebridge for treason.  He is guilty of the crimes; I just don’t think they are prosecutable.  Do you have any ideas?"

                "I’ve been wondering about that as well, anticipating your call.  We have to make the crimes fit his actions.  The man committed treason.  The world knows it.  This isn't a matter of action or speech that ruffled the feathers of the king.  He actually tried to steal the throne.  And he led others in that effort."

                "Okay John.  Make your case, how would you make the crime fit the actions?"

                "First we have an act of war.  He led a number of persons into the Oval Office and began an act of sabotage by accessing the files he was not authorized to view and meeting with a cabinet he was not permitted access to.  The fact he failed to further his sabotage is not the point.  The primary actions establish his intent.  And when confronted by the 'true authority of power' he attempted to retain his ill-gotten authority by force, commanding the agents at hand to expel Mitchell."

                "Interesting.  What about the aiding and abetting?"

                "His actions were such that he propelled the military into a state of confusion.  Who was Commander-in-Chief?  Had an enemy chosen that moment to act against the United States, who would the Chiefs of Staff have answered to?  All it takes is one commander in the field questioning the authority of Mitchell and the point is established.  That doesn't touch the issue of the civilian authority.  The President is the chief law enforcement agent in the nation.  Again, just because he didn't act on the behalf of a specific enemy does not mean his intentional actions weren't on the behalf of all our enemies."

                "In other words, his actions in the Oval Office and his resistance to relinquish authority created the opportunities for the enemy to manipulate to their advantage.  John, you make it sound simple.  I know that it is going to be a hard sell though.  That jury will only have your arguments to go by.  The arguments will have to be extremely convincing."

                "You’re right, with the limited physical evidence at hand; all we have is an argument.  We would need experts of Tolebridge’s caliber to challenge him.  He is no slouch when it comes to the Constitution.  And only a few in the country are his equal.  I would suggest contacting the Dean of Law where Tolebridge teaches in the summer; perhaps deans or professors from some of the leading law schools.  It would be helpful if we could turn some of the aides that were in the Oval Office that night.”

                "How credible are our witnesses?"

                "The most credible: the Director of the FBI, the Director of the Secret Service, the Chief Justice of the United States Supreme Court.  We have numerous members of the Secret Service, the Marshal’s office, and the Marine Corps.  Pretty solid, but it can still be argued they were choosing sides and their side won.  And I wouldn't use the Chief Justice unless absolutely necessary since there is a good chance this thing will be pushed there.  The last thing I would want to do is paint him into a corner."

                "Can we win this one?"

                "Sure, with the right jury - an intelligent jury, and the right attorney."

                "Are you the right attorney?"

                "That's your call boss.  I told you what I would do.  I would need a good team.  We can’t afford someone there, working the case to advance their career at the expense of the case.  No Hollywood dream team egos."

                "John, I wish you the best of luck.  Pick your team and bring home a conviction."

                "I will do my best, Boss."

*     *     *     *     *

Mitchell sat in his study, looking through the files from the bulging briefcase.  The intercom on his phone buzzed.

                “Yes Doug.”

                “Sir, the White House Social Secretary and someone from the Military District of Washington are here to see you regarding the Harts funeral arrangements.”

                “Alright, give me a moment to step into the office.”

As the President entered from the side, the doors from the outer office opened.  Stetson greeted his guests and directed them to the couch as he took the closer armchair.  The White House Social Secretary, Élan Suzuki, was responsible for the planning, preparation and oversight of the Presidential family’s official and personal social events, from the Easter egg roll on the South Lawn to State Dinners with foreign leaders.  Miss Suzuki worked with the First Lady, Carolyn Hart, for the six years the Hart’s were here.  Before that Élan worked at the State Department in the Office of the Chief of Protocol.

                “Mr. President, this is Colonel Adams of the Military District of Washington.  He came to me regarding the state funeral for President Hart.  Normally these things take place after a President has left office and they work with the decedent’s wife and family.  Mrs. Hart is not, um, available and there are no children to assist the Colonel in these matters.”  The Military District of Washington, ‘the Old Guard’, is responsible for the implementation of a Presidents or former Presidents funeral wishes.

                “Miss Suzuki, I understand.  I have my kids flying in tonight to help me concerning their mother’s arrangements.  Colonel, what do you have on file for President Hart?”

                “Normally the President will start with a core program that we present and then add to it, personalizing it.  Sir, his plans are fairly basic.  The series of gun salutes have already begun.  He is to be brought here to lie in repose in the East Room for 48 hours.  He will then be taken to the Capitol to lie in state in the Rotunda.”  Colonel Michael Adams spoke softly and gently, a voice that was reassuring.  He displayed all the traits of a well-trained funeral director.  “The procession down Constitution Avenue to the Capitol will proceed with the traditional caissons, riderless horse, and a flyover with the missing man formation.   At the Capitol Rotunda, a simple service is to take place, followed by lying in state for 24 hours.  He is then to be taken to the National Cathedral for the funeral service.  Again, he will be transported by caissons.”

“Mr. President, after the funeral, the plans become a bit fuzzy.”  The Colonel had a look of discomfort on his face.  “Originally, he stated that he was to be flown to Ohio for burial, but no final destination was listed.  I would assume he intended for his wife to choose his final resting place based upon where they were living or the establishing of a library.  But that is only an assumption.”  Obviously Adams was a detail-oriented man who disliked things out of order.

“I see.  We have an issue of his final resting place.  And I am assuming there are no arrangements for the First Lady.”  The President thought about the plans he needed to make for Constance.  There was so much to consider.

“That is correct, Sir.”

                “Well Colonel, his final resting place is a minor point now.  Carolyn and James are together already.  As for the plans you have, they are not to change.  Miss Suzuki, what would you suggest concerning the First Lady?”

                “President Mitchell, they loved each other very much.  And they died together.  I think the obvious decision is a joint funeral.  That is, if the Colonel thinks that is acceptable.”

                “Sir, Ma’am, I believe that would be the right thing to do.  It would be appropriate for both to lie in repose in the East Room, though I’m not sure about the First Lady being at the Capitol Rotunda.”

                “Mr. President, the First Lady can remain here while her husband is at the Capitol.  We could have the procession from the Capitol to the National Cathedral stop here, where Mrs. Hart’s hearse will join the procession following her husband’s caissons.” 

                “That is a very good suggestion, Miss Suzuki, and I would agree with you had she died in any other manner, but she died at her husband’s side serving this Nation.  She should lie in State at the Capitol beside James.  She can be transported by hearse from here to the Capitol, following the cassions.   So that leaves their final resting place to be determined.  Colonel, what about Arlington?  They gave their lives for the nation as President and First Lady.  I can think of no greater place of honor than Arlington.” 

                “Sir, Arlington would be the ideal resting place for them.  If you would like, perhaps a memorial can be designed for them.  I can finalize the plan and have it back for you to review tomorrow morning.”

                “That would be fine, Colonel Adams.  I want you to sit down with Miss Suzuki regarding the funeral service details.  Miss Suzuki, I am designating you as my liaison concerning these details.  If you have any questions, do not hesitate to ask me.  Colonel, I want the First Lady fully incorporated into the funeral, perhaps a separate eulogy; I want Carolyn truly honored with Jim, not just a notation in the service.  And I would like a nod to the agents who died with them.  Nothing elaborate, but they need to be honored with them.”

                “Yes, Sir, we can include them.

                “Miss Suzuki, will there be any reception following the graveside for the visiting heads of state?”

                “Yes.  I will have the finalized plans for your review later this afternoon.”

                “If there isn’t anything else to discuss, the two of you have plans to finalize.”

As the three stood, the Colonel handed the President a burgundy binder.  “I realize that you are busy, Sir, but we need your plans on file as soon as possible.”

As the President walked his guest to the door, a sick feeling started in his stomach.  I need to plan Constance’s funeral and mine own too.

*     *     *     *     *

In an attorney’s room at the D.C. Jail on D Street, John Tolebridge sat with his attorney, Marcus King.  The County Jail was severely overcrowded, and it was uncertain if the two men were in fact afforded privacy.

                “John, I spoke with the Attorney General’s office and they are planning to arraign you tomorrow.”

                “So, what is our defense?”

                “We have no defense, because the federal government has no case.  You had every right to be there.  Acting in your capacity as the Speaker of the House, there is no Constitutional violation of Treason or Sedition.  Now, unless there is something you’re not telling me, all we have to do is let the Prosecution make our case for us.

                “That sounds right.  Do we need much time to prepare?”

                “Maybe a week, I have a lot already prepped.  Do you have something in mind?”

                “A speedy trial.  If we push to start quickly, it will give added emphasis to our claims and it will hamper the prosecution’s case.”

                “And that’s why you are Speaker of the House.”

 

IX

 

In late October, representatives of every Middle Eastern nation, with the exception of Israel, met together in Iran, for a rare regional summit.  The group assembled at a location on the Caspian Sea to discuss a number of issues, ranging from stability of governments to security issues, to a response to Israel’s assaults upon Iran’s missile program.  After hours of complaining about the westernized United Nations and the United States and NATO’s support of Israel, someone made the remark that the Middle East needed its’ own version of NATO. 

A member spoke up from the Iranian delegation.  An older gentleman began to recount all the encounters Israel has had with the various Arab nations.

                “My brothers, since their fraudulent founding, the Zionist have succeeded against us. 

                                In 1956, the Zionists captured the Sinai Peninsula.  They only retreated because of                                           pressure from the Americans and the Russians.

                                June of 1967, they gained the West Bank from Jordan, the Golan Heights from Syria, and                              Gaza and the Sinai from Egypt.  Hostilities continued between them and Egypt, Jordan,                                                 Syria and the Palestinians ending in a ceasefire.

                                In 1973, Egypt and Syria attempted a coordinated surprise attack, only to be defeated.

                                In 1982, Israel invaded Lebanon and chased the PLO out, establishing a security zone.

                Brothers, the best anyone has done against Israel has been a draw.  We cannot continue to act individually.  The only way to defeat Israel and insure security from outsiders and their crusades is if all of us unite; if all the Islamic nations were to act together, in force.  That means acting as one force under one command, not 10 armies under 10 commands.”

Much discussion followed; and much arguing as well.  Who would be in charge?  Would this affect the sovereignty of the various kingdoms and nations?  Finally, a plan unfolded to develop an Islamic multinational military force, independent of all governments " the Islamic Defense Force.  Each nation was to contribute equipment and personnel.  The idea was not to replace each nation’s military, but to create a supplementary military unit that could respond to any situation.  If the situation was too great for the force, then the unit would act as the lead and national armies would coordinate their actions with the IDF.

Though the concept was warmly welcomed by all the delegates, some eyed the plan with suspicion and only four nations actually chose to participate with personnel, equipment, and funding: Iran, Pakistan, Syria, and Yemen.  The older Iranian gentleman sat back, rather pleased, as the discussion continued on the subject.

*     *     *     *     *

                “Prime Minister David, please forgive me for calling so late in the evening.”  Mitchell sat behind his desk, paper and pen at hand, staring at the clock on the wall, estimating what time it was in Tel Aviv.

                “President Mitchell, my friend, please call me Moshe.  And thank you for calling.  I am pleased you called and can only imagine how busy you must be settling into the Presidency.  We in Israel weep with you for the loss of your beautiful wife and the death of James Hart and his charming wife, Carolyn.  James was a good and trusted friend to us.  His work had gone a great distance in bringing peace here.”  Moshe David spoke with the voice of a grandfather, soft and filled with compassion.

                “Thank you, Moshe.  James was certainly a good friend and teacher.  It was his desire that you could dwell in peace amongst your neighbors.  He had always viewed the tensions there as more a family squabble than that of international hostilities.  I wish he were here now.  And please call me Joshua.”

                “Yes, Joshua, it is true that we and some of our neighbors can trace our linages back to Abraham.  Unfortunately, family tensions are often more difficult to deal with than tensions with others.  That is a fine name, you have.” David chuckled, “The name of a loyal friend, a reliable witness, a mighty warrior, and a strong, trusted leader.”

                “I hope I live up to the name.”  Both men chuckled.  Mitchell sat quietly for a moment wondering where to go with this conversation.  “Moshe, I called to put your mind at ease.  I can imagine you are wondering whether or not we are still here for you, standing with you.  The United States is still committed to the friendship and security of Israel.  You had a strong friend in Jim Hart.  I will be just as great a friend of Israel.”

                “Joshua, you have put our minds at ease.  We were greatly concerned, not in regards to your friendship, but to all we are hearing in the media concerning your Speaker of the House and the impact of the assassination upon you.  Speaking with you now, I trust you are taking care of matters well.  Our concerns are now put to rest and we will do all we can to not betray your trust.  And if we can aid you in any way, please ask.”  Moshe smiled.  This call is what he needed.

                “Moshe, we would appreciate any help you and Mossad can provide in our investigation of President Hart’s assassination.  I know that there has been a strong bond between Mossad and the Central Intelligence Agency.  I hope, with your help, we can put the investigation behind us soon.”

                “Yes, we will be glad to aid you, Joshua.  I will pass your request on to Alf Guiron and have him contact your Mr. Huntington.  Joshua, we are greatly concerned about the existence of the Islamic Defense Force and their rhetoric.   Do you have any thoughts concerning the IDF?”  I hope I’m not pressing too hard too fast?

                “The Bush battle group should be on station, just off the Israeli coast.  Their orders are to defend itself and its projected air space.  Moshe, I hope you have no objections to that; the Bush’s projected air space extends 250 miles.  That range might include the State of Israel.  I have the Reagan carrier group en route to the Indian Ocean, as a contingency response.  They are a day out.”

                “Your fleet, by all means, has a right to defend itself.  And if the State of Israel happens to rest within the battle groups realm of influence, well, I understand.”  David openly laughed.

Mitchell laughed as well, but the conversation quickly turned serious.

                “Moshe, you have upset Iran.  I don’t trust them, or Pakistan.  I am very suspicious of the Islamic Defense Force.  Now, I am asking a favor.  I need time to settle in.  Do what you need to do, but please hold off on aggravating them further.  I need to catch my breath and then you and I can deal with them.  Will you do this for your friend?”  Okay, I put it out there, will David back off?

David wasn’t sure on this point.  Alf was right, this Lion is dangerous.  He called to put us at ease; he already had a response to the IDF, and now this favor.  How far can I trust this new friend?

                “My friend, can you share your suspicions with me?”     

                “There is nothing I can specifically place my finger on, just a lot of questions.  I understand an alliance between Syria and Iran, but not Syria and Pakistan.  Syria, Iran, and Pakistan form a formidable bloc of power and influence.  Iraq and Afghanistan are the odd men out, sitting in the middle of what is otherwise a decisive swathe of power in the region.  I just can’t shake the feeling that something more is going on than simply ‘defense’.”

                “That is very insightful.  Joshua, my friend, I will do what I need to in order to protect my people.  But I give my word, I will not poke any wasp’s nests until you and I can deal with the wasps together.”  I really must call Alf. 

                “Thank you, my friend.”  Mitchell was relieved when he hung up the phone.  He actually expected that call to be tougher than it was.  Maybe I can do this job after all.

*     *     *     *     *

James Wilson had been in and out of the office all day.  The situation in America had every one on edge.  If someone was gutsy enough to kill the President of the United States, what world leader was safe?  And what do we do about Mitchell, the new leader of the Free World?  The phone beeped.

                “Sir, President Mitchell of the United States is on the line for you.”

                “Excuse me?”

                “The President of the United States is on the line for you, Prime Minister.”

                “Put him through.”  Wilson was caught off guard with this call.  He had been told to expect a call over the next day or two, not today.  “President Mitchell, how may I help you?”

                “Prime Minister Wilson, I am calling to put our friends at ease.  I thought our allies might be concerned with the reports in the media.”  Joshua unconsciously held his breath.  It worked with Moshe, maybe it will with Wilson.

                “President Mitchell, we are greatly concerned with the events in Washington.  I wish to extend our condolences for the loss of your wife and the deaths of our good friends Jim and Carolyn.  And call me James.”  Wilson hoped the informality would draw Mitchell out.

                “Thank you, James.  And please call me Joshua.”

                “Joshua, there are some concerns regarding Tolebridge.  Can you shed any light on what is happening with him?”

                “All I can say at this time, James, is that he violated the Constitution of the United States, the oath of office that he swore to, and the faith of the nation.  For his actions, he has been taken into custody.  There isn’t any political bloodletting going on.  You can assure your people that we are simply enforcing the laws of the land.”

                “Was he involved in the assassination?”

                “I am only aware of his actions involving his taking the oath of office and his actions afterward.”

                “We are hearing reports that members of your Cabinet have been fired and you demanded resignations from the rest.  You’re not having serious difficulties with the Administration that you inherited, are you?”

                “No James.  Again, there is no political bloodletting.  I insisted upon resignations from my Cabinet as a matter of loyalty.  I am uncertain of the direction I wish to take in regards to my Cabinet and the resignations provide me with the flexibility I’ll need.  I am conducting an extensive review of all departments; I may expand my Cabinet or maybe combined Departments as a point of restructuring.  Two of my Secretaries, Secretary of State Cord and Secretary of Defense Jenkins chose to not act in a manner of loyalty towards me or the People of the United States.  I couldn’t permit their public defiance, so they were fired.”

                “How is the investigation going?  Is there any way we can be of help?”  Mitchell is open to talking, how much can I draw out?

                “It’s going slowly.  We would appreciate any intelligence MI-5 or 6 can come up with.”  Wilson is probing.  Mitchell wondered if he is giving out to much information.  Time to change direction, “James what details do you have concerning the Korean Peninsula?  We are seeing some disconcerting movement of personnel by the North.”

                “We too have reports of some troop movements.  That might be in response to your speech.  Is there any reason for concern?”  Wilson stared at the wall.  I thought I had control of the conversation?  What just happened?

                “Junior is a recalcitrant.  He does everything he can to be the center of attention, and will exploit every opportunity.  He needs watching.  And perhaps a good old fashion spanking.  I don’t think China is up to parenting him.”  Mitchell liked the imagery and hoped Wilson followed it.  There was talk that James Wilson was a little slow on picking up on things.

                “We will keep a close eye on the Peninsula.  Do you have any other concerns?” 

                “The Islamic Defense Force, I believe something isn’t right.  In the past, none of the countries in the Middle East could agree on anything except their hatred of Israel.  Now Iran, Pakistan, and Syria are joined in a mutual defense pact and this military entity is making some noise.  Something is going on and I believe it bears closer scrutiny.” 

Wilson decided it was time to school the novice on Middle East politics.  “The Middle East’s problem is Israel’s impatience.  Syria and Iran are tired of Israel instigating hostilities and want to bring the fight to them.  Joshua, Israel needs to understand the consequences of their actions and not rely so heavily on military solutions.  They need to trust us to negotiate for them from a true point of strength.” 

                “James, Israel is surrounded by Islam, a religion whose basic tenets include seeking their destruction.  Imagine Great Britain living under the same conditions.  The only options they have are to either roll over and die, or fight for their survival.  Negotiations have simple given land away that originally made the State more stable.  And what threat does Israel pose to Pakistan?  Yet in joining Iran and Syria, Pakistan stands committed against Israel.  This defense pact leads to regional instability.  We need to watch this carefully.”  Is this guy for real?  Mitchell jotted down some notes on his note pad and shook his head.

                “Thank you for your call, Joshua.  I will pass on your concerns to our foreign ministry.”

Is he dismissing me?  Mitchell continued to shake his head.  “Good talking with you James.”  Mitchell hung up the phone.  This can’t be the same Wilson from when I played cards with Prince William. 

*     *     *     *     *

                “Good evening, Alf.  Mitchell called.”

                “Really?  Moshe, what did he have to say?”

                “He called to reassure us that the United States is still our friend.”

                “As I said, this Lion is more than people expect.  Did he have anything to say about our neighbors?”

                “He has the Bush battle group just off our coast with orders to defend us.  And the Reagan battle group is already en route to the Indian Ocean as a contingency force.  He said that he is suspicious of the IDF and asked that we do not go out of our way to further agitate them until he is more comfortable in office.”

                “Did he say why he is suspicious of the IDF?”

                “Yes.  He is concerned about the involvement of Pakistan, and that the alliance of the three countries creates a ‘swathe of power’, as he put it, in the region.  He believes there is more going on than just the defense and retaliation of Iran.”

                “Moshe, did you agree with his request?”

                “Yes, I did.  I said that I will do all to protect our people, but we will not go out of our way to agitate.  I believed that was a fair agreement to win his trust.”

                “Did he stumble through the call or was he prepared?”

                “Alf, he seemed hesitant at first, but then he dove in.  He was completely prepared and confident in what he said.  Boldly he acknowledged our involvement with Iran.  He didn’t scold us, just acknowledged it in a matter-of-factly manner.”

Guiron smiled to himself.  “Moshe, he truly is a Lion.  Dangerous, determined, intelligent.  He is a hunter.  We best not underestimate him.  Many believe he was just a trusted lackey, but his actions are those of someone prepared for his office.  Hart was brilliant to train him so well and yet keep this gem hidden away.  Moshe, we must be careful with the Lion.”

                “Alf, he asked our help regarding any intelligence involving the assassination.  I said I would have you contact Huntington at their Central Intelligence Agency.”

                “I will do that immediately.  I am certain Preston is expecting a call from me.  It would be good for us to have a hand in this.  It would endear us to the Lion.  As C. S. Lewis wrote ‘he is not safe, but he is good’.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “George, I am having trouble reading Wilson.  Can you help me out?”  Stetson hoped he wasn’t treading on thin ice due to the closeness of Miller to Wilson.

                “Josh, James is alright.  Sometimes things need to be put plainly to him.  I think it’s because of his years in academia; his thinking gets muddled, developing details that aren’t there.  He can be a bit pompous also for the same reason.  Don’t let him treat you like a colonist.  You Yanks won your independence from them, beat them a second time, and then saved their bacon.”  George Miller liked this Yank.  He speaks from the head and the heart.  He’s smart, and George liked smart.

                “Leave it to you Aussies to put it in such clear cut terms.” 

Both men started laughing.  It felt good to laugh.  For Mitchell, there has been little for even a smile.     

                “Don’t worry about Wilson, Josh.  The smart money is on you.  You just lead and James will fall into step.”

                “Thanks for your support, George.  And give my regards to all your little ginger snaps.”

                “No problem, Josh.  And we will keep an eye on the Peninsula and the crocs for you.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Yes James, Mitchell called.”

                “David, can you believe that he tried to school me on foreign affairs?”

                “What did he say?”  Mulrooney was anxious to hear the diplomatic views of his southern neighbor.

                “I told him that Israel is instigating the hostilities and that they should trust us to negotiate for them from a true position of power.  Mitchell responded in their defense, saying that the only choice Israel has is to fight or die.  This amateur is supposed to lead us?”

                “James, Joshua has valid concerns regarding the Middle East.  And I think he is on the mark concerning Israel’s survival.   Imagine you taking a walk, alone, in Hackney.  Are you going to wait for a bobby to show up to ‘negotiate’ for you or are you going to defend yourself?”

                “That cesspool?  I wouldn’t go to Hackney.”

                “That’s not the point.  If you were by yourself in Hackney, would you wait around for someone to defend you from a position of power, or are you going to defend yourself?”

                “You have to defend yourself or die, there is no guarantee that a bobby will get there in time to do anything other than pronounce your death.  You don’t walk in Hackney and definitely not alone.”

                “So what’s the difference between Hackney and Israel?”

                “That’s not the point.  Mitchell’s arrogance needs to be put in check.”

                “James, you need to tread carefully.  You are accusing a President in mourning, who is doing all he can to hold his nation together, of being arrogant.  None of us truly know what to expect of Joshua.   And the last thing any of us want is an offended United States.”

 

X

 

The President walked wearily down the hallway to the elevator, his destination the Medical office.  On his trek, Mitchell passed a number of agents posted along the way.  “Stetson’s moving,” was the agents’ whispered message.  It took a moment to sink in, and then a smile formed on his face.  Finally, the President had something to smile about this afternoon.   So, Jester is gone and Stetson is in the House.

Arriving at the Medical offices, Stetson walked in finding Commander Nichols at his desk.

                “Commander Nichols, President Mitchell reporting as ordered, Sir.”

                “Finally, there’s a President who knows how to take orders.”  Nichols couldn’t hold his laugh back.  He had been up to the Oval Office throughout the day, never being able to see the President long enough to examine him.

Nichols had the President disrobe, and then began to examine the bandaged wounds.  After an hour of pushing, probing, closely examining, and rebandaging, the doctor helped Mitchell dress.  There were no signs of infection, and the wounds were beginning to heal, but the Commander was concerned that Mitchell was putting too much stress on his leg.

                “Mr. President, you understand that the cane is intended to be used to help you walk, and not as a prop for striking unruly Congressmen.”

                “I never thought of using it on Congressmen.  Up until now, I’ve only employed it on a pushy Chief of Staff.  Thanks for the suggestion, Doc.”

Nichols shook his head.  “Sir, please use it, I want your leg to heal fully.”

                “Commander, it’s not the first time I’ve used a cane.  I have every intention of having my leg heal.”

The pressure of the day was beginning to hit him hard.  Mitchell, sitting in Nichols office, pulled his phone out and dialed the Secret Service command office.

                “Cass, this is Mitchell.  I’m calling it a day.  Can you have the car brought around to take me home?”

Nichols looked at the President with a questioning look.

                “Sir, where are you?”  Roberts asked questioningly.

                “I’m with Commander Nichols in the medical office.”

                “Sir, you just need to take the elevator to the upstairs.  We moved you in today.  That’s your residence now.”

Stetson could hear the amusement in her voice. 

                “Thanks for telling me. I appreciate that.”  Mitchell didn’t mean it in a harsh manner, but he was tired and it came out.

                “Sir, you were busy and we didn’t want to bother you.  I should have told you sooner.”  The amusement in her voice was now replaced with hurt.

                “Cass, I’m sorry.  It was wrong of me to snap at you.  No need to get the car.  That reminds me, do you have transportation arranged for my kids?”

                “Yes sir, we have made arrangements to pick them up at Reagan and to bring them here.”  Roberts wasn’t accustomed to a Presidential apology.  This President is different.  If only she had a file of her own to read up on him.

                “Thanks, Cass, you’re doing a good job.  And tell your crew Stetson’s en route to the residence.”

Mitchell thought he heard a slight gasp preceding the pregnant pause.

                “Yes, sir.”

*     *     *     *     *

Joshua was feeling a bit awkward sitting in the Presidential Residence with his shoes off and eating a bowl of cereal.  Earlier when he first “got home”, he explored the residence.  All his clothes were hung in the closet or put away in the dresser.  Strangely, none of Connie’s things were there.  In the bathroom, his toiletries were put away in the cabinet.  The bedrooms were all made up.  The kitchen was stocked, and a chocolate cake was on the island.

The coffee table had file folders, notepads, and an ominous burgundy binder sitting on it.  Josh had his leg up on the corner of the table and his laptop was on the couch next to him.  In the background, music was playing; at the moment it was early Beatles.  A knock at the door brought his attention back from his notes to State relating to the first round of phone calls he made that afternoon to Australia, Canada, Great Britain, Germany, and Israel.

Joshua slowly padded to the front door.  Opening it, he found in addition to the posted security, two men, two women, and five children.

                “Grandpa!”

Immediately, arms surrounded Joshua Mitchell from the legs up.  He flinched in pain and gritted his teeth, but the last thing he wanted was for them to stop.  Despite the pain, this was the best medicine for him.  After an abundance of tears and hugs, the clan entered the residence.  Attendants carried the luggage in and deposited the bags in the living room and quietly stepped out.

Mitchell’s kids were a welcome sight.  Joshua Robert Mitchell Jr., an assistant district attorney for the Santa Barbara District Attorney’s office.  His wife Robyn was a stay at home mom of three.  Stetson’s daughter, Caprice Allen, a pediatric surgical nurse and her husband Christopher, a pediatric cardiologist.

                “Let me show you where to put your things.  While you settle in, I can pick up in here.”

Joshua assigned them to their rooms.  As bags were inbound to the rooms, Mitchell was picking up folders, saving files on the laptop, and taking his cereal bowl into the kitchen.

                “Dad, where’s mom?”  Tears were running down Caprice Allen’s face.

                “Sissy, she is at a local mortuary.  We can visit her tomorrow.”  As children, Joshua nicknamed the kids Ajax, or simply Jax, and Sissy.  Sibling rivalry started early between Josh Jr. and Caprice.  Joshua had told them they had super powers that were only effective when they worked together.  Ajax had the power to move the world but only for good.  Sissy had grace and wisdom hidden away under all the frills.  Strength with wisdom could never be conquered.  Together, they were unstoppable.  And when they learned the power of their combined strengths, the rivalry came to an abrupt stop.

Chris and Josh walked in to find Pop’s on the couch, and Sissy curled up next to him, his arm around her holding her.  Robyn walked in, being trailed by the kids.

                “Dad, have you had dinner yet?”  Robyn eyed him suspiciously. 

                “Yes.  I, um, had a bowl of cereal.”

                “Did you eat lunch today?”  She knew the answer already.  Her Josh was the same way.

                “I had a glass of orange juice.”  Josh looked down sheepishly.

                “The President of the United States had orange juice for lunch and a bowl of cereal for dinner.  Really?”  Robyn shook her head.  “Caprice, it’s time to explore the Presidential kitchen.”   The two ladies left the men and journeyed into the kitchen to make dinner.  The kids sprawled out on the living room floor, watching the television.  Grandpa handed Steven the television remote, and the men moved into the dining room.

                “Dad, how bad did you get hit?”  Josh saw the grimace on his dad’s face.

                “Jax, I’m alive, and I have some pain to remind me of that fact.”  Joshua looked at his son and son-in-law, and then to the living room.  In a quieter voice, “the left shoulder, twice in the left chest, twice in the right thigh, and one shot grazed my ear.”

                “Pops, there’s a doctor keeping an eye on you, right?”  Christopher’s eyes were wide.  Josh sat with his eyes closed.

                “Chris, I have my own doctor right here in the White House.  His office is two flights down.  Or if I’m lazy, I can take the elevator.  Gentlemen, not a word to the girls or the kids about my wounds, got it? 

Both of the men nodded their heads.

                “Dad, the footage looked bad.  Seeing you and mom go down shook all of us up.”  Ajax shook his head as tears came to his eyes.

                “WHAT FOOTAGE?”  This news caught Joshua by surprise.

                “Dad, it was on the national news this afternoon.  The neighbors called me just before we boarded the plane saying reporters were set up outside the house.” Chris could see the anger rising up in his dad.

                “Chris, get my laptop off the cabinet.”

Christopher retrieved the computer and handed to Pops.  Joshua opened a web browser and typed ‘ASSASSINATION’.  Numerous hits popped up.  Mitchell turned the audio down and launched one of the videos.  He sat there and started to watch it.

Jax immediately closed the laptop before it showed any of the Presidential party being shot.  “You don’t need to see that, Dad.

                “Excuse me boys, I have a call to make.  Have the kids watch a movie; anything other than regular television.”  Joshua stood and went into his bedroom.

The President called Phillips.  Voicemail.  “PETE, call me”.  The next attempt was to Rodgers.  Voicemail again.  “MIKE, call me.” 

                “JACK.”

                “Boss I just got off the phone with CNN.”  Diggs knows that tone well, though he never heard it from Mitchell.  “You’re calling about the footage, right?  I am tracking the source now.  It looks like someone who is a Congressional staffer captured it on a cellphone.  I’ll have more for you in the morning.”

                “I’ll be waiting.  And Jack, thanks.”

Several phone calls later, the President had confidence things were in hand, and he was back at the table with his boys.

*     *     *     *     *

The girls found the ingredients for a Caesar salad, and paste and sauce with Italian sausage.  It tasted good.  It was also the first meal Joshua had eaten in 36 hours.  Caroline was lying on the couch with her head resting on Gampas leg, chocolate frosting on her nose and cheek.  She was the last to be retrieved by daddy and put to bed.  Minutes later, the adults were sitting around the living room.  Sissy taking the place of honor that Caroline was moved from.

                “Dad, what are we going to do about mom?”  Robyn had a tablet in hand, asking the question everyone was dreading to ask.

                “Sweetie, she is at a mortuary near the hospital.  We can go visit her tomorrow.  What do you want to do about the funeral?”

Josh Jr. spoke up.  “We were discussing it on the plane.  We know what we want, but what do you say.  I mean, you’re the President of the United States.  There are going to be people demanding a public service.  After all she was the Vice President’s wife when …,” Josh’s voice trailed off.  He just couldn’t say it.

                “Son, I don’t care about the other people.  The only ones I care about are here in this Residence.  I have to do a public funeral for the Harts.  If you want a private service for your mom, I would be more than happy with that.”

                “Pop’s will you be bringing her back to California?  Where do you plan to bury her?”  Christopher was hoping it would be close by so Caprice could visit.

                “Forest Glen came to mind.  I don’t know if it will be temporary or permanent, but I think that would be the best place for now.  I was looking at their website and the grounds look beautiful.  And the services they ….”  Mitchell looked up at his kids.  Everyone had a puzzled look on their faces.

                “Temporary or permanent?”  Robyn responded, the brave one once more.

                “Jax, will you get the burgundy binder.  It’s on top of the china cabinet.”

Ajax returned with the binder and handed it to his dad.  Joshua opened it up and flipped through a few pages while everyone circled around closer.

                “They want me to plan my funeral arrangements as soon as possible.  I figure where ever I end up being buried, your mom will be moved to be alongside me.  Most modern day Presidents have a library or center for study.  Part of the grounds is dedicated for internment.  Remember when we visited the Reagan in Simi Valley and the Nixon in Yorba Linda?”

                “The Joshua Mitchell Presidential Library and American Center for Sarcastic Reasoning.  That has a nice ring to it.”  Caprice was giggling.  It was a sound that Joshua enjoyed hearing.

                “And Caprice Mitchell-Allen will be the inaugural speaker for the Center.”  Now there were smiles all around.

                “Sissy, I don’t know who is worse, you or dad?”  Josh chuckled.

                “Anyway, that explains the temporary or permanent.  For now, I’ll purchase 2 plots at Forest Glen.  We’ll contact them tomorrow.  They have several chapels there to choose from.  We will have a private service, if that is what you kids want.  Attendance can be by invite only.”

The rest of the evening Joshua relaxed on the couch with his leg up.  Caprice cuddled next to him.   Josh, Robyn and Christopher huddled nearby looking at the Forest Glen website.  For a short time Pops was able to close his eyes and rest.

 

 

XI

 

Mitchell awoke in a panic.  The sleeping pills sedated the body, but they didn’t still the mind.  Once more he was held captive before the screen of his mind, forced to relive the events that advanced him to the Presidency and took his precious Constance from him forever.  The footage was blurred in parts, slowed down and even stopped at times.  Alone and unable to escape, Joshua Mitchell was forced to endure the repeated horror.

The sleeping pill wore off and Mitchell looked at the clock; it was only 3:30.  Unwilling to try to return to sleep and possibly face another episode of the assassination, Joshua climbed out of bed and dressed.  Leaving a note on the island next to the coffee for Jax and Sissy to call when they woke, he made his way downstairs, surprising security at the early hour and was in the Office shortly before five.

By 6 am staff began arriving.  Mary Johnson arrived at 6:30 finding the door to the Oval Office standing open.

                “Good morning, Mary.”  Mary at once knew the President had been in the Office for a while.

                “Would you like some coffee, Sir?  President Hart would always …” Mary’s voice faded off, and she was beginning to tear.

                “Please.  Coffee sounds great.  Then bring your pad.”  Stetson could hear the pain in Mary’s voice.

When Mary returned with the coffee, Jack Diggs was standing in the outer office.

“Is the Boss in yet?”  Diggs stood by the reception desk holding an envelope.

“Yes Jack, come on in.”  Mitchell called from inside the Office.  Mary followed with the coffee pot.

“Good morning, Jack.”  The President eyed the envelope, fairly certain of its content.  “Pour yourself a cup of coffee and have a seat.”

“Thank you, but I am here for only a moment sir.  I was able to track down the footage to a staffer in the House."  Diggs handed the President a flash drive wrapped in a half sheet of paper.  "I have the information written down here for the commission.  I’m certain the video will be of use to them.”  Handing the President the envelope, Diggs continued, “I am leaving, Sir.  Last night was worse than the previous night.  And every time the media shows the footage, I die a little more inside.  I’m not the man you need.  I’m not the man you can depend on.  Rodgers is fit for the job.”

                “Jack, if there is anything you need or Joyce needs, ever, give me a call.”  Joshua Mitchell shook Jack’s hand, and Diggs turned and walked out.

*     *     *     *     *

By 8:30, Stetson was finishing his first round of meetings.  Ronald Agnew, special prosecutor appointed by the Attorney General, was giving the President the morning’s update on the investigation.  The buzzing on the intercom interrupted the meeting.

                “Yes, Mary?”

                “Your son is on the phone.”

                “Alright, put him through.”  The President took his seat at the desk. “Ron, excuse me for a moment.”  Agnew nodded his consent as the phone rang.

                “Hello?”

                “Hi Dad, I just found the note.”  Joshua Jr. was definitely a morning person, like his mother.  Robyn had mentioned that there were times he just irritated her with his bright eyed, bushy tailed behavior.

                “Is every one up yet?”

                “We’re all up.  Caprice is busy making frisbees for breakfast.”  Mitchell could hear laughing in the background punctuated with a thump and a halfhearted yelp of pain.

                “Ajax, when will you learn to stay out of your sister’s reach?”

                “It wasn’t Sissy, Dad.  It was Robyn.  The two girls are tag teaming me!”  The President chuckled, wishing he could join his kids for breakfast.

                “Josh, security will be up at the residence at 10 to escort all of you down to the Office.  After they give you a quick tour, we’ll head over to see your mom.

                “Alright Dad, I’ll make sure everyone is ready.  We’ll see you then.”  As Jax was hanging up the phone, Joshua heard his son telling the children they were going to visit Grandpa at work.  Stetson didn’t know who was more excited; Jax or the grandkids.

                “Thanks, Ron.  So, all of them are foreign?”

                “Yes sir.  State has been able to confirm their nationalities.”  Agnew had a pained look on his face.  Opening his binder, Ron pulled two photos out and handed them to the President.  “Mr. President, these two are confirmed associates of the Contreras Cartel.  They’re assassins.”

                “We were hit by a drug cartel?  Do you have intel from DEA?”  The President began to tremble with anger.  My wife and friends were murdered over drugs? 

                “Sir, all we know is their association.  We don’t know who was behind it or why.” 

*     *     *     *     *

Stetson was at his desk, leg up on a desk drawer, nursing his third cup of coffee that morning.

                “Boss, why all the cabinet assignments, yesterday?”  Mike Rodgers was used to the unexpected from Mitchell, but yesterday seemed even more so.

                “Mike, there are several reasons.  First, tests: I demand their allegiance, and expect them to do what I ask of them whether they like it or not.  Second, fiscally, we are in a mess.  I need to know exactly where we are and what we can prune.  If we can't get our government spending under control, we are going under.  Third, the American public and the world want to know where I stand on issues; and more importantly, why.  Those assignments will either confirm or destroy those positions I hold.”

Mike Rodgers nodded his head.  Yesterday, he saw Joshua Mitchell act beyond his person, taking command of every aspect of government within his realm of influence.  "So, Boss, where do you stand on the issues?"

                "That, Mike, is a weekend event.  As I've said, the why is just as important as the what and some things take time to explain.  In a nut shell: I am pro-life, which means anti-abortion, anti-euthanasia, pro-healthcare, and pro-welfare, all with definition.  I favor responsible government, which means fair taxation, reduction of debt, balanced budgets, minimal federal authority and the empowerment of the grass root citizenry.  I believe in America first, meaning a strong military, fair immigration policy, energy self-reliance, bringing business to and keeping it in America.  And I am for a responsible citizenry, meaning a reduced reliance upon federal subsidies, personal accountability, education from the local and not the federal government, and charity from the people instead of handouts from the government. "

                "That's some nut shell, Boss.  How do you plan to unpack all that to the nation?"

                "I have no idea and am open to any suggestions.  One thing I know, though; this has to be controlled by us, and not the media.  When I say that I am anti-abortion, I want the public to know why.  The media will do everything in their power to shut me down."

                "Boss, what about a series of video shorts on the White House website, under the heading of 'Where I Stand'?  We can have Pete interview you on a given subject allowing you to say what you need to."

                "I think that could work.  Sit down with Pete and set it up."

Stetson was following the habit of Hart; if no actual meetings were in progress, the doors between the Oval Office and the outer reception area were left open.  And through the open doors, both Mitchell and Rodgers could hear the commotion as the children were calling out for Grandpa.

As the kids dashed through the door, their parents entered as if walking into a sacred place.

                “Come on in.  Mike, let me introduce my kids …”

*     *     *     *     *

In the backseat of the Presidential limousine, Josh Jr. and Robyn rode with the President while Chris and Caprice rode with the kids in the second limo.  The decision was made by a flip of the coin by Secret Service, the loser getting the return trip with Stetson.  After a short trip, the entourage arrived at the Morrison Family Mortuary.  Outside, a staff member from the mortuary waited along with two agents.

The family was led into a private viewing room.  Constance Mitchell lay upon a cloth-covered table.  Her head rested on a dark blue velvet pillow.  She was dressed in a soft, blue linen dress, which was her favorite.

Slowly the family, one by one, stepped forward to “talk” to her.   Ajax, told her about the case he was prosecuting, Robyn about the recipe she tried.  Christopher told her how beautiful she was, while Caprice wept softly holding her mom’s hand.

After a time of “visiting”, the kids took the grandkids and entered the sales room to select a casket.  Joshua was left alone with the “bride of his youth”.

                “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.  I should have saved you.  It should be me there, not you, Angel.  I miss you so much.  And this job is so much more than I’m capable of.  I don't think I can do it alone.  I need you.”  Joshua Robert Mitchell, President of the United States, stood beside the shell that was his wife and wept.

After what seemed an eternity, Stetson felt a tiny hand take his.

                “Don’t cry Gampa,” the hand was little Caroline’s, “Gamma is in heaven dancing with Jesus, and she is waiting for you to come visit her.”

Stetson knelt down and gave Constance a kiss on the cheek, and then picked up ‘Sugar Pop’.   Together, Gampa and Sugar Pop walked out of the viewing room and joined the others.

*     *     *     *     *

Instead of returning to Castle, Joshua decided the family needed some time out.  After an agent picked up some burgers at a drive thru, the caravan headed to a spot along the Potomac.  The kids dashed to the picnic benches while the adults moved at a slower pace staying with Dad.  The men handed out lunch, making sure everyone got the right sandwich while Robyn and Caprice saw to Joshua’s comfort.

It didn’t take long for the kids to eat, and soon they were running and chasing each other and exploring the river shore.  With a number of new “aunts and uncles” watching them, the adults sat in the shade and talked.

                “Dad, tell me how you and Mom met.”  Sissy sat close to her dad.  She loved hearing the story and was glad Robyn asked.

                “We met at church.  Your mom’s boyfriend cancelled on her and she called me and asked if I would take her to the church picnic.”  Joshua had a mischievous look on his face.  “That’s the story your mother told and I stuck to.  There’s more to the story, though.”

                “Like how you brought a wonderful lunch, and helped Mom with the kid’s games”, Sissy chimed in with authority.

                “Actually, there is a part your mom didn’t know, or may only have suspected.”  This got everyone’s attention, especially Caprice’s!  “I was in the Navy, and had just been transferred to Long Beach.  I had been looking for a church to attend.  One Sunday morning, I visited one that was a bit old fashioned.  At the end of Sunday school, the classes would stand and say their memory verses and maybe sing a song.  The last group was the first and second graders.  They stood and said their verse and sang a cute song and then sat back down.  And then their teacher turned and sat with them.  That was when I saw you mom for the first time.  And I was in love.

                I attended every service I could.  I asked everyone about her, as nonchalantly as possible.  And when I found out that she was seeing someone, I asked about him as well.  A couple of weeks later, I learned that there was going to be a church picnic.  About 10 days before the picnic, I asked Miss Constance Albany if I could take her to the picnic.  She said she was going with someone already, but if something should happen she would call me.

                On the following Saturday, a bunch of us guys got together to wash the church bus.  Afterwards, we went out for lunch.  As we sat around the table, I was talking to Glen, her steady.  I mentioned that I had tickets to a Dodger game for the day of the picnic and I felt bad wasting them; I wanted to really be a part of the church and was going to attend the picnic instead of the game.  They were great tickets too.  Seats right behind the dugout and they came with a field pass, so you could be on the field with the players before the game.

                To my surprise, Glen was a BIG Dodgers fan.  He was all over those tickets, and even gave me $30.  On Sunday, Connie asked me if I would still like to take her to the picnic.  I told her yes, and said I would take care of the lunch so she could focus on the games for the kids.  I even offered to help her in any way I could.

                At the picnic, she had me help with the games.  I had large wet sponges thrown at my head, and was a human peg that the children tried to throw hula-hoops around.  I didn’t mind.  I enjoyed helping.  The more I was around her; the more I wanted to be around her.  And I knew I had only one chance with her to shine if I wanted to keep her.”

                Then she threw me a curve ball and asked me to tell a Bible story " Joshua and the battle of Jericho.  I chuckled at the choice of the story, but agreed to tell the story.  As usual, the fifth and sixth graders moaned about a ‘kid’s story’.  This was THE TEST.  I started off by asking the children if God knew anything about science.  The younger ones said yes, while the older ones looked at me like I had two heads.  Connie had a puzzled look on her face as well.

                I told the story, and half way through one of the older ones asked what science had to do with the story.  I finished the story, and then I told them about soldiers crossing bridges in some of the European towns during World War II.  They discovered that if they marched across some of the older bridges, the vibrations from all the soldiers marching in step would act like a mini earthquake, shifting dirt and mortar, weakening the foundations; the soldiers had to ‘break step’ to balance out and ease the vibrations.  I also told them about how certain pitches of sound could shatter glass and cause items to move because of the sound waves.  With so many Israeli soldiers stomping around the walls, a lot of dirt must have shifted away from the foundations and loosed mortar around stones in the wall.  And when the priests blew the trumpets, that perfect pitch sounded, and the wall just fell allowing the Israeli army to run into the city over the broken walls.

                The children were asking for another story.  Not just the little ones, but the older ones; especially the older ones.  Fortunately, the lunch bell was rung and the children ran off to join their families for lunch.  I walked to the car I had borrowed and got the lunch basket and a blanket.  I had someone make some home-style fried chicken, and I brought some coleslaw and rolls.  I brought several bottles of sparking apple cider, and for dessert I had some strawberries and shortcake.

Whenever the story of the picnic was told, you mom always had a puzzled look on her face about why Glen cancelled on her!”

Christopher was holding Caprice’s hand, “It was lucky for you that Glen was a Dodger fan and could take those tickets off your hands.”  A serious, questioning look crossed Chris’ face.  “Pop’s, when did you get the tickets?”

                “I bought them the day before.”  Everyone started laughing. 

Robyn called him a scoundrel, while Sissy had a look of shock on her face.  “Those tickets cost me $195, but I would have given everything I had for that one chance with your mom.”

 

 

XII

 

On Thursday afternoon, Mitchell stood in the Rose Garden in front of television cameras with Virginia Governor, Whitney Marshall.

                “My fellow citizens, tragedy fell upon the United States, this past Tuesday.  As a result, we face the need to fill the vacancy of Vice President.  In normal politics, there would be a campaign waged and an election, resulting in the voice of the American people being heard.  Unfortunately, this is not normal politics, but the response to tragedy.

                I therefore put forward the name of Whitney Marshall for Vice President.  Governor Marshall has served this nation as an Army Captain, being award its highest honor " that of the Congressional Medal of Honor.  Whitney has served the people of Virginia as their Governor for the past six years.  She is not a newbie to government and is of the highest character. 

                There will be some who will say, the choice of Whitney Marshall was made in haste as I attempt to appear Presidential.  That couldn’t be farther from the truth.  James Hart, in addition to being an excellent leader of this nation, was a teacher and a mentor.  We would often sit in the Oval Office, and school would be in session.  The man didn’t hesitate to give homework and one of the assignments was to step into his shoes and appoint reasonable, qualified replacements for the leadership of this nation.  When it came to choosing my own replacement, I had to give it a lot of thought and had to be able to defend my choice.  My first choice is standing at my side.  She has proven herself as a military leader, and she has proven herself as a political leader.  She is a person to whom I would entrust the leadership of this nation to in a critical moment, such as I have experienced.  Governor Marshall.”

Marshall stepped up to the podium.  “Good afternoon.  Tuesday afternoon, when we as a nation began to truly understand the full reality and severity of the events we were facing, I called my team, the leaders of the State of Virginia, into my office.  I sat there with tears rolling down my face, because of the pain that the people of my State and my Nation were facing.  And as I looked around at the Virginian leadership, I realized I was not alone; I was not the only one in tears.  There were tears of pain and there were tears of anger being shed.  And we looked at one another and asked, ‘what can we do?’

                Yesterday afternoon, the answer to that question came.  The President of the United States called and asked if I would step forward and serve this nation in the role of Vice President.  I felt so small, so unqualified as I heard the voice of this man ask me to serve this country.  I’ve never backed away from service before and I’m not about to at this critical moment in the history of the United States.  President Mitchell, I am honored to be chosen as your Vice President and look forward to serving the citizens of this great nation.”

Mitchell stepped forward again to the podium.  “Members of Congress, as I said, this is not the typical election campaigning.  We need a Vice President and cannot afford the luxury of waiting several months as Governor Marshall is debated.  She will be staying at Blair House and will make herself available to anyone prior to the vote.”

Throughout the afternoon and evening, Marshall was visited by Senators and Representatives.

*     *     *     *     *

Friday morning the Senate, under the leadership of President Pro Tem Stacey Perkins, held its vote for Whitney Marshall for Vice President of the United States.  Whitney, a popular two term Governor of Virginia, was a favorite of both Republicans and Democrats.

A veteran, Marshall has the distinction of being one of the few who is saluted by the President, having been awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor.  As a female helicopter pilot, Captain Marshall flew her helicopter behind enemy lines as part of a daring mission to rescue five soldiers held hostage by insurgents.  Marshalls Iroquois came under enemy fire resulting in severe damage to the gunship, and life-threatening wounds to Marshall.  She was able to provide cover fire as a second helicopter touched down, loaded the American hostages, and lifted off. 

As the first helicopter gained altitude, Marshall, flew in and picked up a five-man surveillance team, and then flew back to the base.  Upon return to the base, Marshall barely landed her helicopter, smoke spewing from the engine compartment.  The engine died 10 feet from touch down.  Whitney stepped out and immediately collapsed on the tarmac, having been hit in the thigh, the shoulder and a round piercing a lung.  No one knew how she was able to remain conscious, not to mention pilot the severely damaged Iroquois with the extent of her wounds and the amount of blood she had loss. 

Apparently none dared consider voting against the MOH recipient; she passed with a vote of 100 " 0.

In the afternoon the House of Representatives voted.  On Wednesday, the House had elected a new Speaker of the House, Jackson Pickerill of Colorado.  Pickerill was all business about the vote.  A number of House members wanted to speak, offering support and sponsorship to the candidate.  Jackson, simply read a short bio of Marshall, announced the vote of the Senate, and then stated, “The United States needs a Vice President, the President needs a Vice President, and the House needs to simply vote.” 

Pickerill conducted a voice vote of the House of Representatives.  The House vote was 408 " 0, with 27 abstentions.  Whitney Marshall was elected.

*     *     *     *     *

At the White House, business was being handled.  President Mitchell had finished his calls to foreign leaders and had forwarded his notes to State.  The first of the “homework” assignments was turned in by Defense.  The Saturday morning address was reviewed.  Several candidates for Cabinet positions were interviewed. 

Sitting in front of the President on his desk was a black binder; inside was the order of service for the State Funeral, his eulogy, and the plans for the reception following.  Looking at the binder, he thought about the plans for Connie’s service and the burgundy binder in the Residence that demanded his attention.  Fortunately, Jax and Chris were handling the details for Constance. 

No one dared interfere with the family’s planning of the service, but Mitchell was angered by the discussion of the network cameras.  It was difficult being told that the nation had a right to impose on such a solemn moment.    And Pete Phillips was the man in the middle for the moment with networks pushing him for access from a man who said no. 

Stetson was firm on the point that no reporters be admitted into the chapel.  The kids understood the necessity; after all, the nation was also mourning and their dad was the President.  Jax was the one who suggested limiting the imposition to one fixed camera feed shared by all the networks, like in court.  The reporters could give their commentary from their respective studios.

Caprice noted the oddity of attending a funeral by invitation only.  She and Robyn had been going through her mom’s address book, contacting the ‘invited guests’ and then emailing the invite that would get them past security.

                “Boss, we’re ready to tape the Saturday address.”  Pete Phillips had entered the office with a camcorder on a tripod.

                “Isn’t that setup a bit 1990’s?”  Stetson laughed at the hardware Pete was standing next to.

                “It’s old, but trustworthy.  I can edit the video on my computer, and then upload it to the Internet after you approve.  Once on the White House website, everyone can link to it, and the networks can play it from there.  You just need to freshen up, have a seat behind the desk, look into the lens and speak.”  Phillips was an old hand at this, having worked with Hart.

                "Did Mike talk to you about interviewing me?"

                "Yes he did.  I think it is a smart idea.  The nation can hear your voice, and your words about what you believe.  The sharks can't twist your interview, to lead you along their lines; all they can do is cut and paste, but the intact audio is on the White House website.  The other plus is that your opponents have to accept your words as spoken.  The down side is that you have to be certain of what you say, because once it's said there is no changing it."

                “Alright, give me a moment to prepare myself, and then I’ll be ready for you, Mr. Demille.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Good morning.  My name is Joshua Mitchell, President of the United States.  This past week, our nation was stunned by the assassination of its President and First Lady on the very steps of our Nation’s Capitol.  During the attack, I too was wounded and suffered the loss of my own wife.  At no point in our nation’s history, since the days of Abraham Lincoln, have we experienced so devastating an attack upon the Presidency of the United States.”

                “Monday, the nation will observe a national day of mourning.  All federal offices and many state offices will be closed.  I have been told that many businesses will close for the day as well.  While some will be mourning, others will be taking advantage of the day to simply rest.”

                “Having experienced firsthand the shock and sadness of this loss, I am presently surrounded by my own family.  Now I ask something of the nation.  I ask that you take today and the next two days to be with your families.  Spend time with them and tell them that you love them.  There are families suffering today, because assassins forever stole a son or daughter, father, mother, sibling, or friend.  They are now a memory.  But you have the opportunity to give your family one more hug.  To let them know that they are important to you.”

                “Churches and local governments, you have the ability to reach out to the homes and families of your communities.  Let this weekend be a time of picnics and beach trips, drives to the river or mountains, or simply going to the park for a barbeque.  You can facilitate these opportunities for the families in your community by reducing or waiving fees, or sponsoring special events.”

                “I know that typically, these Saturday morning addresses are used to explain, persuade, and pick apart some legislation.  And following my address, there is a response or rebuttal.  Not today.  We have plenty of time to spar over the political issues we face.  Today let us be family.  Let us love one another and as a nation stand together, regardless of our race, creed, or political affiliation.  Our nation is called the United States.  Let us be united.”

                “Thank you and may God bless you.”

*     *     *     *     *

At 6 p.m., Mitchell and Marshall entered the United States Senate.  The Senate rose to their feet and applause filled the chamber.  When the applause finally died down, the Chief Justice of the United States stepped forward.  The President Pro Tem, Stacey Perkins, held the Bible as Marshall placed her left hand carefully on its cover and raised her right.  Mitchell stood to Marshall’s right, looking on with Marshall’s husband Douglas as she took the oath:

                “I, Whitney Samantha Marshall, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter: So help me God.”

And with those words being said Whitney Marshall became Vice President of the United States.  The Senate erupted into applause once more as all present witnessed history.

*     *     *     *     *

On this overcast Monday morning, six horses pulling caissons bearing a flag draped casket are brought to a halt in front of the National Cathedral.  And just behind the caissons, a hearse bearing the presidential seal comes to a stop as well.  Muffled drums can be heard inside the Cathedral, as a solemn cadence is beat.  Four ruffles and flourishes are sounded as two flag draped caskets are slowly carried by military personnel through the entrance of the Cathedral.  A color guard preceded the caskets with the lowered presidential banner leading them, the two caskets slowly make their way down the main aisle as “America the Beautiful” is softly played by the Marine band.  The caskets are then placed gently upon their pedestals.  In front of the pedestals, on small individual stands, is a line of yellow floral stars, one for each fallen Secret Service agent. 

The order of service proceeded with the Dean of the Cathedral offering the opening prayer.  The congregation then sung a hymn " Amazing Grace.  A Naval Chaplain then read a Bible passage, followed by a song by a soloist " The Lord’s Prayer, and then a prayer for the nation, again by the Cathedral Dean.  The sanctuary was filled with leaders from around the world, who sat somberly.  And in the front, the President, Vice President Marshall and her husband Douglas, former Vice President Martin Paris, and then the former presidents and their spouses in order of history, from the most recent to least filled several pews.  Following the prayer for the nation, the Dean of the Cathedral called for the President to step forward.

Mitchell stood and slowly proceeded to the podium.  His eulogy is already on the podium.

                “Ladies and gentlemen, today we sit in this Cathedral to celebrate the lives and mourn the deaths of James and Carolyn Hart.  To this nation they were the President and First Lady, a man and woman who led this nation fairly and honestly.  To most of those in this sanctuary, they were friends, allies, and trusted leaders.  And to a few, they were respected foes.”

Mitchell paused for a moment, staring at the eulogy; looking up he closed the black binder and spoke from his heart.                  “Ladies and gentlemen, I knew James and Carolyn as friends who opened their lives to Constance and I.  Jim and Carolyn were a Man and a Woman.  I’ve learned that there is a difference between being a Man and being male, and just because you are male, it doesn’t mean that you are a Man.  And being a female doesn’t necessarily mean you are a Woman.

                I knew Jim as a teacher and mentor.  He took long hours explaining things, working with me, honing me to be a better leader, a better husband, and a better man.  I know of few Men I can point to and say ‘I want to be like him.’  It is written in scripture, ‘as iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another.’  Jim was the rod that put an edge to me.  He had time to talk, to laugh, and to listen.  He was a Man.

                Carolyn was the consummate hostess.  She went out of her way to befriend Constance in a city where true friendships are rare.  The two of them would make joint appearances at events and afterwards would stop off to stick their feet in the Potomac, to talk and laugh.  Sunday afternoons and on holidays, we were expected for dinner.   And if we didn’t show, Carolyn was on the phone making sure we were alright.  I will miss sitting with them, talking about Ohio State and USC, our fierce rivalry.  I will miss laughing about our personal mishaps around the Oval Office, and matching wits with them.  I will miss their wisdom and kindness.  Carolyn was a Woman of dignity and integrity.

                As Commander-in-Chief, James loved his military almost as much as his military loved him.  I recall last Thanksgiving, being sent to spend the afternoon with the Marines at Camp Pendleton, in Oceanside, California.  All the men and women were assembled in the mess hall.  The Colonel announced that a special visitor was behind the curtain.  The Secretary of Defense stepped out to cheers and applauses.  The Secretary announced that a special visitor was still behind the curtain. I stepped out and was received with the most halfhearted applauses.  They didn’t want me; they wanted their Commander-in-Chief.  I almost started an intra-service war when I said he was spending the day with the Army.  His military loved him and it showed.  It showed in the salutes they gave him.  It showed in the intimacy of their conversations with him.  They would have gone anywhere, and done anything for him.  They would have charged the very gates of Hell, had he asked it of them.  There are few Presidents that that could have been said of.

                The Hart’s had no children.  Yet their hearts were large.  They basically adopted the children of Soldiers, Sailors, Marines, and Airmen who died in the service of their country.  Those children meant so much to them.  Carolyn referred to those children as ‘her kids’, and as the First Lady, she believed it was her responsibility to example love and care to those who sacrificed father or mother on behalf of our nation.  She would hand write notes to the children at Christmas, Valentine’s Day, on their birthdays, and throughout the year.  And on their trips around the country, they made a point of visiting at least one of those families, spending time with ‘their’ kids.

                As gracious a woman as Carolyn was, James was the knight in shining armor.  Jim Hart would not hesitate to stand up to anyone for any reason when the cause was just.  He did not run in the face of danger, he did not compromise for less than acceptable.  He was a man who could not be bought; and those who think they compromised him to gain a bargain found he obtained what he wanted at the price he set beforehand.  And because he was such a man, a team of assassins were sent by a coward to kill him.

When America looks back on James and Carolyn Hart, they will remember a couple loyal to one another and together were loyal to the United States.  And the United States will see justice done for her President and First Lady.”

The President stepped down and carefully returned to his seat.  The service continued: music, several more eulogies, more music, and a message from the Dean, a congregational song " Holy, Holy, Holy, and the benediction.   The color guard formed, and the caskets were carefully carried out to the soulfully beat cadence. 

Once outside, 4 ruffles and flourishes were played, followed with ‘Hail to the Chief’.  When the caskets were returned to the caissons and hearse, the procession led to Arlington where the caskets are placed above the open graves.  Two flights soared overhead, each performing the missing man formation.  A 21-gun salute in the distance, then flags removed and folded while America the Beautiful is played once more.  Now in the distance a lone trumpeter is playing ‘Taps’.  A minister commends their souls to God and then the large crowd disperses first into knots where soft conversation occurs then quietly to their vehicles.

Back at the White House, the state dining room is set for the reception of dignitaries.  Mitchell enters the room and 4 ruffles and flourishes are played.  This is the second time today he has heard this; first for his friend and now for himself.  And no sooner had the honors been played, a line formed and the Social Secretary takes her place besides Stetson and the formal introductions begin.

                “President Mitchell, we are sorry for your and your nation’s loss… “

*     *     *     *     *

Joshua Mitchell Jr. and Christopher Allen stood in the middle of the room watching the senior Mitchell greet the line of dignitaries. 

                “Chris, did you see that?”

                “The double hander?  I saw it, and Pops spoke with him a bit longer than with the others.”

                “Mr. Rodgers?”  Jax called to Mike Rodgers, the Chief of Staff. 

                “Yes, Joshua?”

                “The gentleman with my dad, who is he?”

                “That is George Miller, the Prime Minister of Australia and his wife, Bess.”

                “He’s a good friend of my father’s.”

Chris looked at Jax with a raised eyebrow.  “I would have thought Pops would treat him like a leper.”

                “How can you tell he’s a good friend and why would you think your father would treat him so?”

Jax looked at Chris with a, ‘shall we tell him’ look.  “I think we can trust him with our secrets, Jax.”

                “In my father’s opinion, the only good that comes from large lizards with lots of teeth are boots.  And we can tell how close dad is to someone by how he shakes hands with them.  Look how my dad is shaking hands.  One hand and a quick word.”

Rodgers watched.  “Okay.  Wait.”  Rodgers looked carefully at the hands.  “Your dad is using two hands.”

                “Yes, and he’s pausing to talk a little longer, as well.  Who is this?”  This time it was Chris making the inquiry.

                “That is David Mulrooney, Prime Minister of Canada and his wife, Kristin.”

Christopher pulled a pad out and started making notes.

                “Alright you two, here is the test.  You know who is next in line, right?”

                “Of course.  It’s the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Wills, Kate, thank you so much for coming.”

                “How are you holding up Joshua?”

                “I’m doing as well as can be expected.  It helps that I have my kids and grandkids here.”

                “Are they down here?”

                “There are my boys with Mike Rodgers, Joshua and my son-in-law, Christopher.  I know the girls are around here somewhere; Caprice is over talking with George and Bess Miller, and Jax’ wife, Robyn, is talking to David and Kristin.  I doubt they’ll be very far from me today.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Double hander and extended conversation.  Thanks for the insights, guys.  If only there was a book on your father, it would make my job easier.”

                “Just don’t take him to the zoo.” Chris did his best to suppress a chuckle.

                “There’s got to be a story in there.  Here come the Mountbatten-Windsors.”  Rodgers greeted the Duke and Duchess and introduced them to Joshua Jr. and Christopher.

                “Your Royal Highness’, we are honored to meet you.”  Joshua spoke softly.

                “Joshua, Kate and I were hoping we could be invited to your mother’s funeral.  She and your father have meant so very much to us and we would like to be there for father.  He is a good friend.”

Jax and Chris exchanged looks, and then nods.  “That would be acceptable.”

                “Thank you.”

 

 

XIII

 

It had been a long, long, emotional day.  The reception was draining.  Again and again hearing people say “I’m sorry for you loss”.  They all meant well, but each time it was as if someone kept picking at an open sore.  Now Mitchell was back in the Residence with his family, emotionally, physically, and mentally exhausted.

                “Pops, quite a few dignitaries at the reception asked to be allowed to mom’s funeral.  I know that it is a private service, but they were very sincere.  Josh and I talked it over and said yes to a couple of them; we needed to make decisions on the spot.”

                “Chris, who did you say okay to?”  Joshua was drained and the thought of tomorrow fatigued him further.

                “We said okay to the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, the Prime Minister of Canada, and the Prime Minister of Australia, and their wives.” 

                “Well, I see the Anglo alliance wishes to stand by me.”

Christopher wasn’t sure of his fatigued father-in-laws response.

                “You and Jax did fine, son.  Good decision, they were trusted friends of Jim and Carolyn’s and trusted friends of your mom and I.”  Joshua took a deep breath and let it out slowly, lifting his leg up to rest.

                “Dad, you need to sleep.”  Christopher looked at him, his look changing from son to doctor.  “Don’t make me bring Caprice in here.  You don’t want her as your nurse, trust me.”  Caprice had always been a force to reckon with.

                “Okay, doc, I’ll wind down and go to sleep.”

*     *     *     *     *

At 7 am EST several black limousines followed a hearse on to the tarmac at Joint Base Andrews, and travelled towards a large blue and white Boeing 747, with ‘United States of America’ printed on its side.  The hearse came to a stop near the tail of the aircraft.  A military honor detail marched to the hearse, opened the back and lifted a flag draped casket.  Turning, they proceeded to the aircraft as America’s Hymn played once more.  Mitchell had always loved hearing ‘America the Beautiful’, but now it left a sick feeling in his stomach.  Once the body of Constance Mitchell was aboard ‘Angel’, the family boarded via the front stairway.  Finally the President slowly climbed the stairway and was greeted by his little ‘Sugar Pop’.  Instead of the traditional wave at the top of the stairway, the President took Caroline’s hand and entered the plane.  Once they took their seats, Air Force One was ready to depart for California.

'Angel' climbed to her cruising altitude and then the pilot announced that it was safe to move around.  Christopher, Caprice, and Commander Nichols moved to Stetsons cabin.  Sitting in the high back seats, grandfather and daughter were talking and laughing.

                “Sugar Pop, why don’t you make sure your mom and dad are doing alright.  Lieutenant, can you make sure Miss Mitchell makes it past the media mob?”

                “Yes sir.”  The Lieutenant took Caroline’s hand.  “Miss Mitchell, do you like chocolate milk?”

                “Yesssssss!”

                “Let’s go get some, okay?”

                “Okay.  Bye Gampa.”

                “See you later, Sugar Pop.”

                "Hey Dad, are you doing okay?"

                "Yes Sissy, I'm doing fine.  I'm just tired.  I thought I might nap during the flight."

                "Mr. President, a nap would be good.  You have been on your feet too much, and you aren't going to get much rest once we touch down in California.  I just want to give you a quick exam before your nap."

                "Not more poking and prodding."

                "Dad, don't make us get professional."  Caprice Allen gave her feared, ‘don’t mess with the nurse’ glare.

                "Alright, sweetie."

After 20 minutes, Stetson finally lay down and dozed off.  Caprice and Robyn quietly sat in the cabin.  It was a nice break having the kids watched by their dads on the flight home.  The media was going all paparazzi with the family and neither one could stomach another question.  After an hour, Mitchell started to toss and turn and then awoke abruptly.  Sweat was beading on his forehead.

                "He was aiming at me, he was aiming at me.  Why did he shoot Constance?"

*     *     *     *     *

At 10 am PST Air Force One touched down at Vandenberg Air Force Base, near Santa Barbara, California.  After the President and his family disembarked the plane, a hearse bearing the Great Seal of the United States approached the rear of the jumbo jet to receive its precious cargo.  Again an honor guard carefully handled the flag draped casket as music played.  This time the President was standing with the honor guard.  And as the honor guard made its way the 150 yards to the hearse, Joshua Mitchell walked with them, his hand placed on the flag draped casket, imagining holding her hand and walking with her one last time.  At the hearse, the guard paused as the President spoke softly, “Angel, don’t worry, I’ll be right behind you.  I love you, Beautiful.”

Mitchell stepped back from the casket and the honor guard carefully placed the casket into the hearse.  Now Constance was ready for her final trip.  Steven Mitchell and Trenton Allen approached their grandfather and stood beside him, one on each side, as Joshua stood staring at the vehicle.

                “Grandpa?”

                “I’m okay, boys.  I just miss her so much.”  The President turned, and television cameras captured the three ‘men’ slowly walking to the waiting limos.

The hearse and limousines, followed by secret service vehicles proceeded off the tarmac and then out the main gate of the base.  Outside the main gate several limousines were waiting and as the procession passed by, they fell in behind the secret service vehicles.  As the Presidential procession continued, Stetson’s phone rang.  It was Roberts advising him that the Duke and Duchess, and the Prime Ministers had joined the procession.  The procession grew to nearly a mile long as additional vehicles joined in unofficially, being held back some distance behind the official vehicles.  People and banners filled overpasses and lined the roadway partly to support their new President, partly to view history.

An hour later, the procession entered Forest Glen.  An agent was standing at the gate with a funeral director, and as the procession approached the gatehouse, the agent and director entered a black town car and led the way to the Rose Chapel.  While Constance was brought into the chapel, the family and guests were led to a reception room adjacent to the chapel where refreshments awaited and the group could rest and freshen up.

The President introduced his family to the dignitaries.  Caroline was overjoyed to meet a “real” princess, just like Cinderella and Aurora.  Instantly Caroline became the Duchess’ shadow, and the Princess became Caroline’s “bestest” friend.

                “William, it is good of you and Lady Katherine to do this.  It really means a lot to us.  George, David, ladies, thank you.”  Mitchell’s eyes began to tear.

                “Josh, you need to sit down for a bit.  Yesterday was hard and today is worse.  You need to just rest.  Let us serve you, today.  You’ll have plenty of opportunities to serve us later.”  Princess Kate walked Mitchell to an overstuffed easy chair and took a seat in a chair next to him.

Caprice brought her father a small plate of food and a cup of coffee.  “Dad, you skipped breakfast again.  You need to eat, or you won’t make it through the day.”  Caprice wasn’t scolding her father, but the nurse was coming out taking charge of her ‘patient’.

Joshua took the plate and nibbled on its contents as conversation continued around him.

*     *     *     *     *

The Rose Chapel was filled to capacity with family and friends.  Music filled the air as people talked softly.  The music was provided by a string quartet.  The family had decided that organ music was too depressing, and their memories of mom were full of life.

The service began and proceeded without a glitch.  Both Josh Jr. and Chris spoke.   Jax shared experiences from childhood, when he learned the consequences of painting artwork on his bedroom wall at age 7, to adulthood, when his mother whispered to him on his wedding day that she was proud of the man he had become.  Christopher shared about the woman the world saw.  Her grace when protesters waved signs in her face, causing her to fall; the quiet woman who spoke simple comforting words to veterans in pain, bringing smiles to their worn faces.  They both read notes from their wives who couldn’t speak because of their tears.  A pastor who had known Joshua and Constance for many years spoke from Proverbs 31, making comparisons between the godly woman and Connie.  A friend sang a beautiful rendition of “Nails in Your Hands”, a worship song that Constance enjoyed, and which often brought her to tears.  And then, the unexpected happened.  Steven Mitchell, 13 years old, slowly walked to the podium with a rolled piece of paper in his hand. 

                “Hi.  My name is Steven Mitchell.  My dad and Uncle Chris and the pastor talked about someone named Constance.  The pretty lady I know in the casket is Grandma.”  His young voice trembled and cracked a little, but no one was noticing.  “Whenever we came to visit Grandpa and Grandma, she would run to the car to meet us.  We always got hugs and kisses.  Not yucky kisses, but soft ones on the forehead.  And when she hugged us she always smelled like baked bread or sugar cookies.  In the afternoons, we sat on the front steps and had lemonade and she asked about what we were doing; like we were real people, not kids.   She always treated us like real people.  She asked us what we thought and why we thought it; not just about kid stuff, but about people stuff.  Dad says, it was because she respected us.

                At night, Grandpa would tell us stories before bed.  But the best part was when Grandma came in and sang to us afterwards.”  Looking at his Grandfather, Steven added, “Your stories were great, Grandpa, with all the voices and noises and stuff.  But Grandma sang that song.  You know.”  Steven paused for a moment and wiped his eyes.  “She said it was from the angels just for us.”

Not an eye in the chapel was dry.  Handkerchiefs were appearing throughout the room.  Even several of the Secret Service agents were fighting back tears.

                “I had decided last year that I wanted to marry someone just like Grandma when I grew up.  She was so wonderful.  I don’t know who would want to hurt her.  She was so kind to everyone.  I tried to think why someone would hurt her like that, but I can’t and I don’t understand.

                Once I told her about a bully who hit me.  Grandpa said I didn’t have the right to start any fights, but I could protect myself and end the fight.  But Grandma said the bully only hurt me because he was hurting inside.  I should protect myself, but I should also pray for him so God could fix him.  Grandma was smart, God fixed him and he’s my friend now.  At night I cry because I miss Grandma, but I pray God will fix the people who did this so they will stop hurting others.”

Steven stood by the podium for a moment, looking down. 

                “That’s all I have to say.  Except that I miss her and that I hurt inside.”  Joshua stood and walked to his grandson.  And for a moment the two looked at one another and then hugged.               

                “Steven, I’m proud of you.  You are quite the man.”   Steven looked his grandfather in the eyes and Joshua extended his hand.  Steven took it and the two men shook.  Then Steven returned to his seat.

                “Well, here I am.”  Joshua stood where Steven had moments earlier.  “I don’t know what to say that hasn’t already been said.  Josh shared the character of his mother.  Chris shared the qualities Constance shared with the world.  The pastor compared her to a woman most see as the goal to attain.  And Steven simply spoke his heart.

                Steven, Grandma’s kisses were always soft and sweet like chocolate.  She had the voice of an angel, and I enjoyed listening as she sang to all of you.  And at night, I also cry, because I miss her too.”  Joshua gave an understanding smile to his grandson.  Turning to the audience, “Constance was in every way my match.   I wish I could say I was hers.  We were a team, but she was the better, the truer, the purer part of the team.

                She was smart and witty.  We would drive the kids crazy with our word game.  One of us would say something and the other would correct the first with a similar word with a different meaning.  We would go back and forth until either one of us was stumped, usually me, or we were laughing too hard.  When there were issues facing me, she was my sounding board.  The questions she would ask would drive me crazy.  In the end she would understand what I was facing and would have several responses that I didn’t or couldn’t see.

                Many times, she was my compass.  I would come home so frustrated about something that happened at work on the Sheriff’s Department.  I would want to take my star off and take the matter into my own hands.  She would look me in the eyes and tell me I couldn’t because that wasn’t the man she married.  We talked and she listened, and after a while the matter was past.  And I still had a job.  And Josh, I still remember that ‘artwork’ of yours.  One of the smartest things I did was to let your mom convince me to let her handle it.

                On our tax forms, she was listed as a home maker.  Many women dislike that descriptor and find it demeaning, but she didn’t.  She definitely made our house a home.  But she did more than that; she made our home a bit of heaven.   Few know the secret to bringing heaven to earth.  To know Connie was to know you were in the presence of God.  Caroline, my littlest one, told me not to cry, because Gamma was in heaven dancing with Jesus.  He’s a tough one to compete with, and I don’t think any amount of Dodger tickets is going to gain me another shot with her.

                She was the best part of me and made me a better man.  To keep her, I had to be a better man.  She expected the best from all of us and deserved the best from all of us.  And we all knew what the best was, because in all she did, she gave us the best.  Whether it was showing dignity and respect to the least of us or taking the time to serve the greatest of us.  In all things, her goal was to serve Christ; to hear His voice say well done, and to leave us in His presence.

                Steven, I don’t know why anyone would want to hurt your Grandma, except that there are evil people who do evil things for evil reasons.  And picking Grandma as the standard for a wife is definitely going to increase the number of girls you are going to date.  There are few women out there like Grandma, and I was lucky to find her.”

Now Joshua stood by the podium looking down, tears slowly lining his cheek.  A moment later, a small hand slid into his. 

                “She definite was the best part of me, and I miss her oh, so much.”  Joshua picked up Caroline, and Sugar Pop and Gampa walked back to their seats.

The service concluded shortly afterwards and those in the audience paid their last respects, row by row.  As the last person exited the chapel, a military honor guard entered.  Moments later, they exited bearing the casket, followed by the family.  Soon a procession line formed from the chapel to the gravesite.

At the gravesite, there were several more eulogies and songs.  Standing in the distance under a tree, a lone bugler played “Amazing Grace”.  The flag was removed and folded with the stars on the blue field 1-3-5 exactly.  The commanding officer of the detail presented the folded flag to Mitchell with a salute.  Then a closing prayer was said and it was over.  More handshakes and words of condolence followed.  Finally all that remained at the gravesite were the family and several others.  Attendants busied themselves around the grave, and then stepped back.  Joshua quietly wept as he watched the grave swallow the casket bearing his wife.

*     *     *     *     *

Video of the day had been streaming from the arrival of Air Force One at Vandenburg, following the procession to Forest Glen, the service in the Rose Chapel, and even the graveside service.  All America and the world walked through the day with Joshua Mitchell.

In Korea, the leadership was quick to take note of Mitchell’s grief.

                “Look at the American President.  Earlier he had to be walked back to his limo, and then a child had to lead him off the stage.  This is our great adversary?  How can he wage a war when he has to be led about by children?”

                “We shouldn’t underestimate his display of grief.  It could be easily matched by his vengeance.”

                “Look at him.  Look how he weeps at her grave.  Is there truly grounds to fear this man?”

*     *     *     *     *

At an estate, north of Tehran, an elderly gentleman sits, watching as the President of the United States struggles to say goodbye to his bride. 

                “Sir, won’t this sorrow turn to anger when he learns of our involvement?  He will be a fearful enemy.”

                “First, he must learn our involvement, and second, what will he be able to do to us.  Will he really be able to act against us?  I do not believe he will even survive through the month, if he even survives today.  Look at how he mourns.  This is just further evidence that Allah is with us, showing how weak this enemy is.”

                “I pray, your Eminence, that this is not evidence from Allah, to tread carefully with this man.”

                “Josef, trust me.  Allah is bringing a new life to the land.

*     *     *     *     *

The kids were able to book a banquet room in Santa Barbara near the pier that overlooked the Pacific.  The room was filled with guests, again by invitation only.  This time there were no cameras allowed inside.  Outside numerous news crews had lined the walkway, creating a red carpet atmosphere that overwhelmed the guests as they had arrived, reporters calling out to guests asking questions and wanting interviews.

The kids had carefully thought out the reception beforehand.  Josh Jr. and Christopher moved through the room acting as ‘ambassadors’ for Joshua, insuring everyone got an opportunity to talk with him without overwhelming him.  Caprice and Robyn took turns standing with Dad and shuttling food and drink to him.  Roberts was impressed by how much thought went into emotionally protecting Stetson by his kids.  For a moment she considered recruiting them.

Off the reception room was a smaller furnished meeting room.  Secret Service stood post at the door, insuring it stayed empty in the event the President needed privacy.  The afternoon turned into evening and Mitchell was feeling the fatigue now.  Caprice gave the prearranged signal and took her father’s arm and slowly strolled towards the private room.  Immediately Josh and Chris started running interference, distracting guests as Dad passed by.  Robyn was already at the doorway with Roberts.  The whole maneuver was so smooth; most in the room were unaware of what was happening until the door closed.  Again Roberts was impressed.

Inside, Stetson sat on the couch and put his right leg up.  Tears were lining his cheek.  He didn’t know if the tears were from the fatigue or the sadness, or both.  All was done to guarantee his privacy.  Robyn carried information from Jax and Chris to Caprice, who would screen it.  On this last trip, Robyn carried a request from one of the dignitaries to talk to Joshua.  This one was granted.

                “William, please be seated.”  Joshua had stood to greet his visitor.

                “Joshua, you look tired and I know that leg must be bothering you.  Kate and I are concerned.  We saw you slip into here and wanted to check on you.  George and David are worried about you.”  The concern on Williams face was intense.

Mitchell put his leg up again.  “Thank you for your concern, William.  It has been a long, hard day for all of us.”  Mitchell eyed Prince William and then continued, “Will, I’m not sure I can survive this.  How can any one rule well without someone at their side.  Connie steadied me, kept me in line, she tempered me.  I wonder if Reagan could have done what he did without Nancy at his side.  Or Bush without Laura.”

                “Joshua, you can do this.  Men are placed in important positions at critical times, because God knows they are the man for the moment.  Wilberforce when we dealt with the issue of slavery.  Lincoln when the Union faced its crisis. Churchill when we faced the Germans.  Reagan faced down the Soviets.  Bush on 9/11.  And now you face this crisis.  You are the man of and for the moment.  If we didn’t have confidence in you, George and Bess, David and Kristin wouldn’t be out there wringing their hands right now.”

                “William, how can you be so sure of that " that I’m the man for the moment?”

                “It’s a matter of trust.  I know you, so I am certain you are the man for the moment.  But even if I didn’t, I would still trust that you are that man.  This world exists because of such a precarious balance.  It is part of an expansive, highly developed universe that exists in so exact a balance that one change would cause it to fold.  This could only be if it were designed and maintained by a genius.  It makes more sense believing someone is out there in control than thinking a perfectly balanced universe just happened out of nothingness.  You are not here by accident.  You are here because you are supposed to be.”

Joshua took a deep, unsteady breath.  He found a friend in William Mountbatten-Windsor.  And at this time and place in the world, real friends were rare.  Showing a weak smile, “We need to play cards again.”

                “Last time, Kate scolded me.  She thinks you cheat.”  William had a mischievous look in his eyes.  “But I think I know the rules now; I’ve been practicing with Harry and he swears I cheat, so I must have the game down.”

                “What was she worried about?  It wasn’t her caviar you lost.  She needs to pay more attention to how the hands change.”  Joshua chuckled.

                “I heard about it all the way home " from Wilson!”

                “Next time we play, perhaps the stakes will be higher; maybe Ireland for Illinois.”

                “Or Wilson for whomever you choose.”

                “Talk about upping the stakes.  I look forward to it.  And William, thank you.”

William and Joshua stood and Joshua walked him to the door and shook his hand.  Soon Mitchell was back on the couch, his leg up, starting to doze.

 

 

XIV

 

Jury selection in the case of The United States versus John Tolebridge had begun.  Everyone, including the Judge, was surprised by how quickly the case was proceeding.  No sooner had Tolebridge been arraigned, the defense immediately asked for a court date to begin jury selection.  When the court gave a date six weeks off, Tolebridge’s attorney stated that he was prepared to begin immediately and demanded a sooner court date based on his clients Constitutional right to a speedy trial.  When the prosecution asked if the following week would be acceptable, the defense accepted.  The prosecution agreed as long as the judge permitted recesses as needed.

                “Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Marcus King and I am the attorney for the defense, representing John Tolebridge, Speaker of the House of Representatives of the United States.  From those seated here today we hope to select a jury of Speaker Tolebridge’s peers to hear the circumstances of this case and then determine guilt or innocence.  At this time, though Mr. Tolebridge is seated beside me at the defense’s table, Mr. Tolebridge is innocent and only accused.  No evidence has been presented and no witnesses have testified.  You must view Congressman Tolebridge as an innocent man.  Thank you.”

*     *     *     *     *

In his office at Justice, Ronald Agnew sat on the couch nursing a cup of coffee.  It had been three days since he had updated the President on the investigation.  The man buried his wife today, I’ll call him tomorrow.  On the coffee table was a stack of files; blue folders for the Hispanics, green for the Middle Eastern, gray for the Secret Service, and red for other subjects of interest.  The thought of the Speaker as a suspect is crazy.   But for the sake of thoroughness, he must be investigated.

Earlier in the day, several reports came in.  The first was from the US Drug Enforcement Agency concerning Martinez and Sandoval.  According to the DEA, publicly, the Contreras Cartel was swaggering south of the border.  News of Martinez and Sandoval’s involvement was known and the cartel was using their new found influence to further secure their base in Chihuahua.  Internally though, they were shaking.  They were seeing themselves as the primary target of the United States. 

The report stated that the cartel actually approached DEA, and were giving all kinds of information on their two associates.  The most interesting info being that they were missing for three months, possibly having travelled to an unknown destination in the Middle East.  The cartel had interviewed friends and relatives and provided extensive reports and interviews that rivaled the quality of those written by DEA itself.  They also provided basic information on the other seven Hispanics. 

The second report was brought in by a CIA courier.  CIA had been talking with Mossad.  And Mossad had provided workups on the six Middle Easterners; one Syrian, three Iranians, a Pakistani, and an Iraqi.  All of the men had military training, with several still in the service.  All of them travelled from their homes to Mexico City.  All of them were Shia Muslims.  All of them left behind wills and statements on video recordings with instructions in the event of their deaths.  A hard disk travelled with the report and videos.  Mossad certainly is thorough.

Agnew’s thoughts shifted from the drug cartel to the Middle East to the Capitol building.  What was the connection?  Ron made a note to talk to DEA about cartels being connected with the poppy fields.  It sounds crazy, but maybe there’s a connection. 

 Agnew was pulled from his thoughts when the phone rang.

                “Agnew.”

                “Ron, this is Harris.”  Rob Harris, the USSS investigator and the appointed liaison to the Commission sounded anxious.  “I need to talk to you, do you have time?”

                “Sure.”

                “I’m faxing you something now and will be there in 15.”

                “See you in 15 then.”

Agnew’s fax is humming now as 5 sheets of paper fill the tray.  Before finishing the first page, he dropped in to his chair and let out a low whistle.  Where does an agent get 500K?  He scans the rest of the pages and starts again reading more slowly.  Before he is able to finish, there is a knock and the door opens.

                “Rob, you made it in 10.  You found a mole?”

                “I badged a cab.  And yes, maybe two.”  Harris was out of breath from running the stairs.  “I sent you the highlights.”

                “This is a dead agent, correct?”

                “Tony James, died at the scene.  Two of his rounds ‘accidently’ struck the First Lady; friendly fire as he ran down the steps.  That didn’t sound good, so I set out to prove him innocent.  Found a deposit of $500,000 made the previous week.  The check was supposedly dividends from some bogus investments.  The investment firm is a shell corporation traced back to Mohammad bin Al-Karzah.”

                “Al-Karzah?  Do you have anything on him?  I’m unfamiliar with the name.”  Agnew is carefully tracing the money trail on a flowchart Harris had handed him.

                “I ran the name through State.  He is an Iranian.  His brother is connected with the Islamic Defense Force; some official representative.”  Harris saw Agnew’s eyes brighten.

                “You said the IDF?”  Agnew hurried over to the stacks on the coffee table.  Sifting through the green files, he handed one to Harris.  “This guy is a Syrian, was a DI in their army.  According to the info CIA gave us from Mossad, he was one scary guy.  And he was assigned to the IDF.” 

Harris stood, leafing through the file. 

                “This guy was one of their DI’s and was an instructor in hand to hand; was trained for the Islamic equivalent to our special ops.  I doubt I could take him, according to this.”

                “Rob, you said two.  Who is the second?”

                “Jeffrey Thoms.  He is recovering over at George Washington.”

                “What put him on your radar?”

                “He made some suspicious movements on the videos.  When he was hit, he had his gun pointing at Mitchell.  The impact of his first wound made him flinch as he fired.  We suspect it was the shot that eventually killed Mitchell’s wife.” 

                “Are you sure of that?”  Ronald Agnew had a shocked look on his face.  “Are you really sure of that?” 

                “It’s how it looks to us.”  Harris pulled a flash drive out of his pocket and handed it to Agnew.  Ron plugged it in and dragged the file onto his screen and then opened it.  The file contained several videos.  He had copies of all the different videos of the assassination, but these videos were zoomed and enhanced to focus on Thoms.  And all of the videos showed Thoms sweeping the steps with his weapon and then pausing, as if aiming, then flinching and firing just as he was hit.

                “This footage is pretty damning for your agent.  Do you have anything further on Thoms?”  Agnew pulled up the original footage and was playing it to confirm the enhanced videos were true copies.

                “We’ve been focusing on these video clips.  I have someone checking his ‘investments’.  Once we have the background completed, we can interview him.  Or do you want FBI doing the honors?”

Agnew sat, staring at the screen.  He shook his head in disbelief.  “Rob, if he is guilty, he betrayed the Service and murdered the Vice President’s wife whom he swore to protect.  He’s yours to finish.  Has the Director been apprised yet of either of the agents?”

                “I came to you first.  The Director said everything goes to you first.  And Cullens told me of the Presidents threat, and I really like my job.”  Harris had an uncomfortable smile on his face.

                “Okay, I have been informed.  Advise Director Cullens of your discovery and get me your workup on Thoms before you interview him.” 

                “Will do.  I don’t envy you telling the President you have the man who killed his wife.”

                “Neither do I.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Mike, this is Ron.”  Agnew had an uneasy feeling in his gut and he’s learned to listen to it.

                “What are you doing at the office still?”  Mike Perkins, a rising star in the Bureau, was placed over the FBI’s branch of the investigation.  The one factor that impressed Director Evans was that Perkins didn’t play politics; he knew his job was to enforce the law.  As long as the bad guy ended up in jail at the end of the day, he didn’t care who got the credit.  And Perkins actually understood the Presidents reasoning.  The investigation was bigger than the Bureaus reach, and the end result rested with the Attorney General.  And Ron already had steered the investigation away from several legal challenges.

                “I’m at home.  Is our survivor able to be moved?

                “Yeah, I was planning to interview him tomorrow.  What’s up?”  Agnew’s voice sounded uneasy and his question caught Perkins by surprise.  “Are you expecting problems, Ron?”

Agnew paused for a moment.  His gut had that feeling, and it wasn’t the pizza he picked up on the way home.  “I have a funny feeling someone is going to try something.  I have nothing for certain, just a gut feeling.  And the thought that his boss knows he is still alive.”  Ron Agnew ran down the pieces that came in today: the report from Mossad, the information from DEA, the two moles at USSS.

                “Ron, I have a connection at DEA.  There has been some talk that the cartels are hooking up with some of the poppy growers in Afghanistan.  It’s mutually beneficial, opens up markets for both.  I can talk to him and get some details on the Contreras Cartel.’  Perkins thought for a moment.  “If I were handed all these pieces, I would be looking at the possibility of someone in the Middle East acting through Mexico to hit the United States.  I don’t know if Tolebridge figures into this or not.  But if this is as organized as the pieces point out, I’d follow your gut too.  Did Mossad give us a translation of the videotaped wills?”

                “No.  I have CIA handling that for me with a redundancy by the State Department, just for confirmation.  Let’s move Gomez, middle of the night to a secure location.  And put security on all the agents in the hospital: cover it with, I don’t know, some nut with an ax to grind on federal agents, looking for slow moving targets.”

                “I will get on that immediately.  We can move Gomez to the infirmary at the Marine Barracks.”  Perkins is laughing, thinking about what would happen if the Marines realized who they were protecting.

                “NO.  Mike, we want to keep him alive.  Doesn’t Bethesda have a secure ward?  Let’s move him there, keep a guard on him, and maybe use an alias for him.  And I’d like to set a trap, if anyone shows up at George Washington.”

                “We can do that, too.”  Perkins mind was already at work. 

*     *     *     *     *

                “Mr. President, I want to update you on the investigation.”

                “Sorry for not talking to you sooner, but things have been busy.  What do you have?”

                “We have a lot of things pointing east.”  Agnew filled the President in on almost all the details.

                “Do we have any confirmation on the cartel-poppies link?”

                “We only have suspicions of the link.  Perkins at FBI is checking with his connection at DEA.”

                “Ron, that’s a smart move, following your gut.  Do you know when Perkins will be interviewing Gomez?”

                “Thank you, Mr. President.  Perkins will be interviewing him tomorrow.  Sir there is one other lead we are following up.  The Service believes that a second agent was involved.  They are doing a thorough investigation before interviewing him.”

                “HE’S ALIVE?”  Stetson’s voice erupted and had his detail racing into his room.  Roberts and company saw the President shaking in anger.

                “Sir, let me do my job.  Please.”

                “Was he the one aiming at me?”  Stetson’s voice was a bit softer but trembled.

Totally baffled by the Presidents response, he quickly dug for Mitchell’s statement.  “Sir, what do you know about this detail?  Your interview says nothing about this.  Has anyone spoken to you about this?” 

Mitchell hesitated for a moment, and then responded in an even softer tone, “No, no one has talked to me about this.  I am having nightmares.  I’ve been seeing details.  I see an agent pausing with his handgun pointed at me, as if studying me, savoring the moment.  Just before he fires, he is struck and his shot strikes Constance.  She took my bullet.”  Agnew can hear heavy breathing and what sounds like restrained sobs.

                “Sir, have your SAC take your statement concerning you nightmares.  I will keep you apprised of our interviews.”

                “Ron, is he the one?”

                “We’ll find out, Sir.”

                “Ron, don’t let me down.  Please.”  Somehow Stetson was controlling his emotions.

                “Sir, I won’t.” 

XV

 

Agent Roberts lingered in the suite with the President as he concluded his conversation with Agnew.  President Mitchell occupied the cottage at the Biltmore, which made security so much easier for Roberts.  The dining area was converted into the Western Oval Office, consisting of POTUS’ laptop and wireless printer, and his open briefcase.  An Army Captain, with a briefcase cuffed to his wrist, is resting in an easy chair in the corner.

                “Agent Roberts, I didn’t mean to startle you and your detail.”

Cassandra Roberts was still uncomfortable with Presidential apologies. 

                “No need to apologize, Sir.  We are still on a learning curve with you.  The detail is a bit over responsive from last week, which is good, but we need to learn your moods and voice.”

                “Ron Agnew at Justice is overseeing the investigation of the assassination.  He wants you to interview me concerning my nightmares.”

                “Interview you concerning your nightmares?”  Roberts was wondering where this was going with Justice, but was glad for the opportunity to fill the Director in on what was going through Stetson’s head.  She pulled out her pen and pulled some sheets of paper from the printer.  “Alright, Sir, when you are ready.”

                “I’ve been having nightmares of the shooting.  The sleeping pills are a double-edged sword.  The body rests, but the mind doesn’t.  So I relive the shooting every night.  The nights I skip the pills, I wake from the dream and remember it.  Otherwise, the details are a bit fuzzy from the medication.”  Mitchell is up and moving to the couch in the living room, putting his leg up on the coffee table.  Agent Roberts follows him and takes a sit at the other end of the couch.

                “Mr. President, I’m not sure why Justice wants to document your nightmares, but shouldn’t you be talking to a professional " um, perhaps a psychologist?”

                “I mentioned some details of my nightmare, and Agnew felt the details may be significant to the investigation.  I feel just as awkward sharing the dreams with you as you feel hearing them.”

                “Alright, Sir, let’s continue.”

*     *     *     *     *

Mike Perkins sat in an uncomfortable hardback chair.  In the hospital bed, Pedro Conception Gomez sat propped up. 

                “So your cousin is Jesus Sandoval, member of the Contreras Cartel?”  Perkins sat and listened as the interpreter repeated the question in Spanish.

                “Yes.”

                “You are a member of the Contreras Cartel?”

                “No.”

                “You travelled to the Middle East for three months?”

                “No.”

                “Gomez, before we go any further, let me explain something to you.  You are a foreign visitor who was involved in the assassination of the President of the United States.  There are those who would rather see me waste 55 cents to put a bullet in you and send your dead body back to Mexico than pay for your medical expenses.”  Perkins waited for the translation. 

                “As for the United States Government, you are viewed as a terrorist and an enemy combatant.  You are facing possibly spending the rest of your life, as short as that may be, in prison at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba.”  As the translator spoke, Gomez’ face began to pale with the realization that he was doomed.

                “Senor Gomez, if you wish any consideration from the United States Government, your full, complete, unwavering cooperation is required.”

Gomez slowly nodded his head.

                “Let’s start with your trip to the Middle East.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Rob, what’s with all the security around here?”

                “There is some concern for the safety of the detail survivors.  I was told something about someone having an ax to grind with federal agents or something.  Just a precaution, we don’t want anything to happen to you.”  Rob Harris was someone you didn’t want to play cards with.  His picture was in Webster’s under poker face.

                “Are there any new details coming to light on the assassination?”  Jeffrey Thoms, a 15 year veteran of the United States Secret Service, had been a part of the protection detail for the past three years.  Prior to the detail, he worked undercover for several years on a large scale counterfeiting operation, for which he received a meritorious service award.  He had his choice of assignments; he narrowed it down to range instructor or protection.  The marksman chose protection.

                “We have nothing new, Jeff?  They have me going over the statements of the detail.”  Harris opened up his binder, and pulled out Thoms’ report.

                “Rob, they need you somewhere else, not doing this piddly, brain dead stuff.”

                “Jeff, piddly or not, it has to be done.  At least it’s me and not Anderson; unless you like Anderson and her gravelly voice and cigar breath.”

                “No, you will do just fine.”

                “Let’s start with your statements.”

                “We were at the top of the steps.  Camelot was working their way down the steps….”  

*     *     *     *     *

                “So, in your dream, an agent is pointing his handgun at you.  It’s not a slow sweeping motion, he has actually stopped his movement to sight his weapon on you?”  Roberts is trying to make sure the President is certain of the person’s movements.

                “The person had stopped movement and was sighting on me.”  The President spoke with absolute certainty.

                “Did you see who shot the man pointing the gun at you?”

                “No, but it seemed the shot came from above on the steps.”

                “The gunman fired after he was shot.”

                “Yes, immediately after he was shot.  Perhaps just seconds between the hit and firing.”

                “And that shot struck your wife?”

The President didn’t answer; instead he tightly closed his eyes.

                “Sir, that shot struck Constance Mitchell?”

                “Yes.”  The Presidents voice trembled.

                “Can you describe the shooter?”

                “He was a male white, late 30’s, approximately 5’11, 210 pounds, real solid.  He was wearing a dark suit, blue tie with red dots.  He seemed like he had bright red hair, and was wearing aviator sunglasses with brown lenses.  He had a 45 with white grips.”

                “He had red hair and a 45 with white pistol grips?”           

                “Yes.  I know red hair and white pistol grips sound crazy, but that is what I keep seeing.”

Roberts sat with her head down, making notes.  That’s Thoms.

*     *     *     *     *

Gomez explained that he and several other persons from the cartel travelled with Jesus Sandoval to Islamabad, Pakistan on a personnel exchange.  Members of the cartel were to learn about the poppy farms, while poppy farmers were learning the cartel trade.  After they arrived, the group was transported to a ‘farm’ outside Quetta that was actually a training camp, where his participation was insured; Gomez was shown a live video feed of the ‘poppy farmers’ holding his family hostage.

Perkins took careful notes.  This was a Muslim attack on the Presidency using Mexican personnel.

                “So you and those who travelled with you were trained by Arabs?”

                “Yes.  They acted like they were military.  We were given weapons and trained to take them apart, clean them, and put them back together.  We practiced shooting on the run, running up and down stairways, standing, kneeling, and laying on our stomachs.”

                “Do you know who ran the training camp?”

                “No.”

                “Did any one visit your training camp?”

                “I heard helicopters, but I didn’t see any one.  When we weren’t being trained, we were kept in our tents.  They were hot and had no windows or flaps for ventilation”

                “Were you told who you were to kill?”

                “When we returned to Mexico, we were allowed to visit our families.  They were all being held in a compound about an hour outside Chihuahua.  It was then we were told that we were to kill the American President and Vice President.”

                “How did you return to Mexico and did anyone from the training camp travel with you to Mexico?”

                “About five or six people stayed behind.  But they sent seven with us, they were the mean ones.   They flew us in on a private plane.  They had us handcuffed to the seats.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Jeff, they have us going over everyone’s backgrounds.  There is talk that there may have been collusion between the detail and the assassins.”

                “That’s absurd.”

                “What can you tell me about Abrovsan Industries?”

                “Excuse me?”

                “Abrovsan Industries, is it a good investment?”

                “I wouldn’t know.”

                “Jeff, according to your bank records, you received $500,000 from stock dividends, Abrovsan Industries stock.  The check was cashed the week before the assassination.  Tony James also had a jackpot payout from Abrovsan.  And you two are the only ones who had friendly fire on Camelot.”

Thoms suddenly didn’t feel very well.

                “I want an attorney.”

                “Jeff, what really happened out there?”

                “I want an attorney.”

                “Jeff, how did you come to invest in Abrovsan Industries?  I’d like to invest if they payout like that.”

                “I want a lawyer.”

                “Jeff, have you talked with your sister recently?  How’s your little niece?”

                “I want a lawyer.”

                “Jeff, we’re friends.  What’s going on?”

                “I want an attorney.”

                “Jeff, I don’t understand?  I ask you to confirm your statements concerning what happened out there and you ask for a lawyer.  I ask for financial advice from a friend, and you ask for a lawyer.  I ask how your family is doing and you ask for a lawyer.”

                “I want a lawyer.”

                “Jeff, I want you to shut your mouth and open your ears.  Before you ask once more for an attorney, let me tell you what the Service already knows.  We have financial records showing that you recently received $500,000 in dividends from an investment in Abrovson Industries, a private company owned by Mohammad bin Al-Karzah.  Coincidentally, the assassins were Mexican and Middle Eastern, and I’d guess they were all trained in Pakistan.”

Thoms sat in his bed quietly, but Harris could see that his mind was trying to figure out how much he knew.

                “And then there is the video evidence.  Let me show you what we found.”  Harris opened his laptop and started with the videos that were seized.

                “Those don’t show anything except them going down.”  Thoms tried to sound unimpressed, but was not succeeding.

                “We had some of the footage enlarge and enhanced; footage featuring you.”  Harris launched the videos.  As Thoms watched, his eyes widened.  “Jeffrey, that was not friendly fire.  You were targeting Mitchell.  You can talk to me or you can lawyer up, it’s your choice.  You talk to me now, and we can see what we can do to keep you off the execution table.  Lawyer up, and I guarantee capital murder and treason " if you live that long.  You don’t really think they will let you live long enough to testify, do you?”  Harris enunciated the last sentence slowly, letting the words sink in.

*     *     *     *     *

                “Mr. Agnew, this is Agent Roberts, United States Secret Service.”

                “Agent Roberts, are you the Special Agent in Charge of the Presidents protection detail?”

                “Yes, I am.  The President told me I was to make a report of his dream and fax it to you?  Perhaps you can help me out; since when are dreams of evidentiary value?”

                “There is legal precedent.  Detailed dreams properly documented shortly after an event are viewed as memories and recollections.  There have been a number of cases in which convictions were obtained on the added strength from a victim’s recollection of dreams.  You made a thorough documentation of the President’s nightmares?”

                “Yes and the nightmares are quite detailed.  He is recalling many details I would think most would overlook.  It must be those years of training in law enforcement.”

                “Agent Roberts, are there any details that you think are of importance?”

                “The President described a specific member of the protection detail as the shooter.  He was quite thorough on the description.”

                “And who would that be?”  Drum roll, please …

                “Sir, that agent would be Jeffrey Thoms.  His description of his red hair is one thing, but the height, weight, type of sunglasses, the pistol grips, and the caliber of weapon.  They are all Thoms. ”

                “I will be awaiting your report, Agent Roberts.

*     *     *     *     *

The President was sitting on the beach with the burgundy binder and his laptop.  The grandchildren ran and played on the sand and in the surf under the careful watch of their new, well-trained, ‘aunts and uncles’.   Joshua and the kids were going over the Military District funeral outline.  Mitchell had had the pages downloaded so that it would be easier to organize the material, making additions and deletions on his laptop.

His cellphone rang, and he stood and walked on the damp, packed sand, leaving the kids to plan out his ‘final arrangements’.  After all, it’s for them and the nation.

                “Mitchell.”

                “Mr. President.  North Korea is moving.”

                “What do we know?”

                “Sir, based on the last two satellite passes, it appears North Korea has half of its military amassed near the DMZ with a steady flow of assets continuing from the North.”

                “Secretary Anderson, what are the Joint Chiefs advising?”

                “Sir, I am with them now and the call is on speaker.  They say put the Reagan half way between the peninsula and the Persian Gulf, and move the Stennis in; she is already half way there.  Put the Interceptors at Fort Greeley on standby.  Move a couple brigades in from Pendleton and put several on standby at Lejeune.  Field commanders see a pending move by the North coming and the South Koreans are panicking a bit.”  Mitchell could hear the Chiefs in the background agreeing.

                “Frank, you have a go with the Alaskan interceptors and the Navy; get the Stennis moving immediately.  Move two brigades in to reinforce us, put two brigades at the nearest base outside the theater; if we have to move men in, I want them as close as possible.  Move three brigades from Lejeune to Hawaii.  Contact our friends down under; perhaps they can house some of our assets without getting them eaten by their crocs.  Put another missile boat off the coast.  We already have the hunting packs to sea, correct?  I want them in the area if Junior should choose to use his hovercraft.”

                “Mr. President, that’s a bit more aggressive than we were anticipating.”  General Cole spoke with a tone of reverence.

                “General Cole, I hate war.  I believe it is a futile waste of human life.  But if war is what is coming, I plan to act fast and decisively.  That is the only way we can prevent a hemorrhaging of life.  This will not be a police action.  I do not plan to conquer and rebuild.  I want to hit hard, hit fast, destroy enough to punish and pull out just as quickly.”  Mitchell made certain the warriors understood his approach.

                “Sir, what about the diplomatic front; won’t this send mixed signals?”  Frank Anderson, Secretary of Defense for one week, was feeling in over his head.

                “Frank, I believe in diplomacy from a position of strength.  Why should North Korea back down if all I offer is words?  I am giving them a choice: walk away or fight and die.  And I plan for them to understand that if they choose to fight, they will die.  It will not be in their favor.”

                “Mr. President, what about China?”  General Cole did not look forward to facing an enemy with overwhelming manpower.

                “I don’t believe they want to fight.  Actually, I am counting on them being my ace in the hole.  If Junior is foolish, he will launch his missiles.  He doesn’t have that many and we outnumber them with interceptors 5-1.  China knows the odds of his success are slim, and if he launches, we must respond.  They are in the fallout zone.  His foolishness will hurt them.  And if they try to make it a missile war, they won’t win.  Neither will we.  China is our new opponent in MAD.  Additionally, they will be siding with the aggressor, and the world will know it.  They can’t afford to let the North pull them into this.”

                “Mr. President, I will put the assets in motion, but it is a huge gamble you are taking.”

                “Yes Frank, it is.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Ron, this whole thing is Middle Eastern based.”

                “Can he provide us with anything further: perhaps the location of the training camp, or further descriptions of camp personnel, or the location of the compound in Mexico?’

                “I will get more from him on the camp, but as for the location, good luck.  They were moved during the night in the back of a closed truck.  We do have info on the compound.  Perhaps we can execute a raid over the border.  I’m not that keen on trusting the Mexican Government.”

                “Get me the compound details.  If we can take the farmers, we get further information on who is behind this.  I’ll talk to State and find out what our options are with the raid.  It looks like we will need Presidential cover.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Secretary Williams, we need to communicate clearly with the North Koreans.  Let Junior know if one sole of a North Korean soldier crosses the DMZ, I will deem it an attack upon South Korea and the United States.  I will not hesitate to bring the full force of the United States military upon him to achieve a swift and decisive end to the conflict.”

                “Sir, those are not very diplomatic words.  What more can I offer him?”

                “The United States presence on the Korean Peninsula is for one reason; to maintain the political status quo.  North Korea has as much right of existence as South Korea.  If the two nations were to merge into one upon the mutual agreement of their peoples, I would be the first to extend my hand in peace and friendship.  But if either side intends to impose itself on the other by force, they do so at the risk of devastation.  Is that more diplomatic, Todd?”

                “Yes actually.  Put that way, we are there to protect them from the South.  I doubt he will buy that, but he will understand the part about the status quo.  What about China?”

                “Relay the same message to them with the emphasis on the status quo.  Remind them that any action involving North Korea will not be advantageous to them.  Junior keeps playing with the launch button.  One of these days he is going to hit the button and we will be obligated to retaliate.  Can China handle hundreds of thousands of refugees crossing the border, not to mention the fallout from Junior’s boo boo?  Feel them out.  If needed, I will contact them directly.  What do you think of me taking the message globally?”

                “Mr. President, we need all the pressure we can possibly muster, placed upon North Korea and China.  I can arrange for you to address the UN, hopefully before North Korea acts.  And perhaps we can buy some time if I relay to Junior that you wish to personally address this ‘misunderstanding’ from the United Nations.  His curiosity might get the best of him and keep him from rushing ahead.  You know how much he enjoys being the center of attention.  Having his name bounced around the UN will definitely feed his narcissism.”

                “You have your work cut out for you, Todd.  Get to it.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Ron, Thoms is willing to talk with a lawyer present.  He knows we have him, and I have him thinking about how long he will live if I pull his protection.  I figure his lawyer will want to deal to keep him off the table and the needle out of his arm.”

                “I don’t want to deal.  He’s a traitor and a terrorist.  He betrayed the trust of those he protected, the trust of those he worked with, and the trust of the nation.  When the nation hears about his actions, they will want his blood.”

                “Wow, his only option is self-incrimination.  Not much in exchange for his information.”

                “Have you gotten anything from him other than his willingness to talk?”

                “Ron, he was someone willing to take a bullet and was trained not to talk.  His willingness is a huge accomplishment.”

                “Do you want me there, in case the lawyer gets out of hand?”

                “Yes, I don’t think I can handle him and a shark.”

                “Okay, I’ll join you and I’ll be sure to bring my shark repellent.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Mike, I need this letter delivered to the Speaker Pickerill ASAP.  I’ve already sent it in an email, but I need a hard copy hand delivered.

                “May I read it, Mr. President?”

                “Certainly.”  Rodgers removed the letter from the envelope and read.

                                Dear Mr. Speaker Pickerill:

                                In furtherance of U.S. national security and foreign policy interests, pursuant                                                     to my constitutional authority to conduct U.S. foreign relations and as Commander    in Chief and Chief Executive, I am notifying Congress in compliance with the War                                   Powers Resolution (Public Law 93-148) of the following:

                                At the request of and in support of the South Korean People, I Joshua Mitchell                                                 am authorizing the deployment of military personnel and assets to South Korea                          in anticipation of hostilities by the North Korean Military.

                                This movement of Military assets will include:

           The deployment of the Reagan and Stennis battle groups, in addition to                                          other naval assets as needed;                                     the deployment of two Marine brigades into the Korean theater, with                             additional brigades on alert for flash deployment.

                                It is advantageous that, though these details be disseminated to necessary                    members of Congress,  such details not be made public, allowing the South Korea      and United States military personnel the greatest degree of success and safety.  I                                    appreciate the support of the Congress in these actions.

           Respectfully,

                           Joshua R. Mitchell                        President of the United States

                “Boss, how far do you think this will go?”

                “I don’t know, Mike.  I can only tell you what I hope and fear; I hope this is North Korea saying look at me, I want to be the center of attention.  What I fear is that China is using Junior to probe my resolve and take advantage of our injury.”

 

 

XVI

 

It is early, Friday morning in Asia.  In Wonsan, North Korea, the headquarters for the eastern fleet, there is extensive activity.  Sitting on the sea ramps, nine hovercrafts are being loaded with the assault forces, while another 30 sit in the harbor awaiting their turns.  At the western fleet headquarters in Haeju, similar operations are taking place.  Just outside Kaesong and Kwanp’o-dong armored forces have gathered forming the North’s penetration force.

300 miles away, the Stennis group is making its turn west, while approximately 10,000 Marines are in flight for Seoul from Honolulu, Hawaii.  And unseen to all but God, the USS Nebraska was settling in off Hamhung, while Submarine Squadron 1 out of Pearl Harbor was speeding to the South Korean coastline.

                “Ambassador Kim, we are aware of the buildup of forces near the demilitarized zone and the activity at your ports.  The President is greatly concerned that there may be a misunderstanding concerning the military activity of your nation.  The last thing he wants is to misread your nation’s actions and react in force.”

                “Mr. Williams, we appreciate your Presidents’ concern.  Our military activity is in response to the actions of your President.  Your heightened state of readiness is of great concern to us and has been interpreted as a possible prelude to invasion.”

                “Ambassador, President Mitchell does not want war.  The elevation of the alert status by the United States military was in direct response to the attack upon the Presidency.  He views the United States presence in South Korea as a means to preserve the geo-political status quo on the Korean Peninsula.  He believes North Korea has as much right of existence as South Korea, and neither nation has the right to impose their political beliefs on the other.”

                “So, your President Mitchell favors North Korea?”

                “President Mitchell favors a Korean nation encompassing both North and South, existing upon the mutual agreement of the citizens of both nations.  To such a nation, he would be the first to extend his hand in friendship and peace.  He wishes it was not necessary for the United States military to be present on the Korean Peninsula to ensure peace in the region.”

                “Mr. Williams, your President Mitchell sounds like an idealist.”

                “President Mitchell is far from an idealist.  He understands that nations will act in violence towards their neighbors and he would not hesitate to respond, if necessary.  For example, if you were to cause an incursion into South Korea, he would view such an action as an act against not only the South Koreans, but also the United States.  Such an act would bear, in response, the full force of the United States.   He sees war as a futile waste of humanity, and would act in a decisive manner to bring about a swift end to the conflict for the sake of all parties.”

                “Is this a threat against North Korea, Mr. Williams?”

                “Not at all, Ambassador, I am simply explaining the thought processes of the United States’ President.  Again, the last thing he wishes is a misunderstanding.  As a matter of fact, he plans to address the United Nations’ General Assembly tomorrow afternoon in hopes of better expressing his desire for peace.  Many other global leaders are concerned about what is happening in America and the responses by the President.”

                “Thank you for your call, Mr. Williams.  I will relay to the Leader your explanation of your Presidents’ actions and he will look forward to President Mitchell’s remarks to the General Assembly.”

*     *     *     *     *

Sitting in his cubical at Langley, Virginia, Roy Grant is leafing through a sheaf of printouts while listening to three news broadcasts.  The 27 year old graduate of Pepperdine University is covering the night Middle East desk at CIA. 

                “This is CNB with breaking news from Pakistan.  Antigovernment protesters have set fire to        government buildings in Islamabad, during early morning protests to the western influences of           the United States and its allies.  Protesters are demanding the Prime Minister, Cabinet, and           Parliament to step down, and their calls to return to a traditional Islamic government are    sweeping throughout the country.  The sudden opposition has caught government leaders off-               guard and is being likened to the Arab Spring demonstrations of past years.”

Grant turned the other broadcasts down and focused on the reports coming in from Pakistan.  Scanning the printouts and folders covering his desk, he began looking for the influences behind the protests.  As he read, other cubicles around his started to come alive and soon analysts stood in small groups talking. 

Several hours passed as Grant took sheets with highlights and notations in red pen and put his findings into an outline of sorts.  Muftis and Imams are teaching a return to traditional Islam.  There is a public outcry against western influenced politicians in the media.  Agitation of students is occurring at the universities.    The reports reflect a change in attitude towards the government occurring over the past several weeks.  Grant looked over his notes and didn’t understand what was going on.  Why the sudden change in a nation with so stable of a government.

Going back over the papers covering his work area, Grant noticed the same activity in Afghanistan, Iraq, and Turkmenistan, but nothing in Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, Jordan, Lebanon, or the other countries.  Why the Pakistani government and not the others?

                “Roy, what is perplexing you?”

Grant turned in his chair to find the Section Leader, Alan Hawkins, standing behind him.  Hawkins had been at the Middle East desk since Bush Jr. and is familiar with the intricacies of the region.

                “This Pakistan thing isn’t right.  I could understand this if pressure was building for an extended period of time, but based on these reports, the pressure has been building only for a couple weeks.  These are the actions of people who have been oppressed for too long and can’t take it anymore.  It’s far too extreme; how did this hostility grow so quickly?  And why is Pakistan different from Saudi Arabia?  They really aren’t that different.”  Grant looked at his watch and back at Hawkins.  “What are you doing here so late, Alan?”

                “The boss will want a briefing and I don’t want to be caught flat footed.  What pressure are you finding?”

                “I have a list of newspapers and television stations that have issued op-eds in opposition to western influences in the country.  I also have a list of Muftis and Imams who vocally oppose the West.  Some of them have name recognition, but most don’t.  I also have the names of University professors who are speaking out on campuses.  I need to see if there is a connection between any of them.”

                “Roy, I agree.  It’s too extreme a response for what is happening.  And I would expect this in Iraq or Afghanistan, not Pakistan.  Something is not right.”

While the two sat in Grants’ cubby, someone yelled out, “There goes Afghanistan.”  Grant and Hawkins turned up the volume on the TV.  As they listened to the reporter, scenes of protestors lobbing torches and fire bombs through windows of government buildings filled the screen. 

                “Iraq’s next.  Roy, let’s start chasing down your lists.  Put what you have in a memo then see if your lists are connected in any way or if they are acting independently.  I need to make a call to some cousins.”

Grant nodded his head and started working up his memo.  Cousins - that would be the Brits and the Israelis.

*     *     *     *     *

Pedro Gomez knew the area well.  Though he was blindfolded for the trip, once he was at the compound he simply had to look at the horizon and he recognized the area.  Based on his memory of the trip " the gravel roads, the bridge, the railroad crossing, outside sounds " and the satellite mapping, Gomez was able to pinpoint where the compound was.

Agents of the FBI and Drug Enforcement Agency joined those of the Mexican Ministerial Federal Police.  The American agents were unhappy with the decision of working with the Federal police, due to their reputation of being bought off and leaking intel.  The State Department stated that officers would be from out of the area to insure against corruption.

Just before dawn, the task force swept in low and fast by helicopter approaching from varied directions.  The helicopters set down just outside the compound and the officers and agents cut through the fences and slowly approached the structures.  The compound consisted of 7 structures, resembling dilapidated shacks more than anything, used to house migrant farm hands, and a barn " the sturdiest of the structures.  The teams cautiously cleared each structure, starting with the houses and finishing with the barn.  After it was determined that the structures were empty, the teams went back through each structure, cataloging belongings that were lying around, again starting with the houses. 

*     *     *     *     *

11 a.m. local time Friday morning, Air Force One touched down at John F. Kennedy International.  After a slow roll to a secure area, the President descended the rolling stairs giving his best Presidential wave and smile, and walked to the waiting limousine.  While traveling to the General Assembly building, Mitchell read through his revised speech and reviewed his notes on the Middle East from his earlier onboard briefing.  Only one week on the job and North Korea is preparing to invade the South, and the Middle East is burning. 

*     *     *     *     *

Asaf Blum, an analyst with Mossad, sits at his desk inside a nondescript building in Tel Aviv.  On his desk is a list of persons and media outlets. 

                “Alan, my friend, the media outlets are the easy part.  It’s a family operation, extended family actually.  Abbud bin Al-Karzah is the family patriarch.  His son-in-law Mazin owns a chain of newspapers in Pakistan.  Son Mohammad is on the board of Al-Jazeera and operates several smaller television stations in Iraq and Afghanistan.  Abbud’s youngest son Wasay handles the radio stations.”

                “Asaf, can we tie the list of persons to Al-Karzah?”

                “That is the part that will take much time.  The list is large.  And as you see, their realm of influence is quite extensive in the Muslim world.  As soon as I develop bios on these people, I will let you know.”

                “What, if anything, have you discovered with this unrest?”

                “No specific groups are claiming responsibility.  It appears to be just the local people rising up against their governments.”

                “It seems the same to us.  It is just that the response of the people is too extreme for the length of protest.”

                “I agree.  If we find out anything, I will let you know.”

                “Thank you, my friend.”

*     *     *     *     *

The agents and Federalies worked the barn inventorying the contents.  There was an eeriness to the Camp; it was as if everyone just left.  But they left belongings behind, as if they were beamed up by some extraterrestrials.  Even a tractor was left outside, behind the barn, the keys still in the ignition.  One of the Federal officers noticed that the tractor was sitting on a patch of ground that appeared to have been freshly tilled and compacted.  It was the only tilled area in or around the compound. 

By afternoon, American agents had ground penetrating radar brought to the compound and used to scan the patch.  On the screen, numerous bodies were displayed.  One of the agents attached a bulldozer blade to the front of the tractor to open the mass grave.  The bodies of adults and children were carefully lifted out and set aside for identification.  Many of the adults were identified by the ID cards and paperwork found dumped in the grave.

The Mexican federal officers did not handle the scene well.  These were officers who were accustomed to seeing decapitated bodies that littered streets, courtesy of the cartels.  But to them this was different; this wasn’t the work of the cartels " criminal versus politician or police.  These were Mexican citizens - men, women, and children, who were shot and mutilated by foreigners and dumped into a hole in the ground, like discarded garbage.  This wasn’t something you just investigated, this was something you avenged.

*     *     *     *     *

Mitchell had enjoyed a lunch with Secretary of State Williams, United States Ambassador to the United Nations, Nicholas Sanders, and General Secretary Martina Baptiste Sandoval-Herrera and was now in the assembly seated in the ambassadors’ seat with Williams and Sanders behind him.  

General Secretary Sandoval-Herrera gaveled the assembly to order.  “Ladies and gentlemen, I recognize the President of the United States.”  The General Secretary stepped to one side of the podium as Mitchell stood and slowly walked to the podium amid a standing ovation.

                “Madame General Secretary, members of the Assembly, thank you for this opportunity to address this Assembly.  I have received many formal and personal expressions of sympathy and encouragement this past week in regards to the assassination of President and Mrs. Hart and the murder of my wife.  On behalf of myself and the United States, thank you for your kind words and prayers, they are greatly appreciated.

                There has been much concern expressed by many here regarding the immediate response of the United States and the uncertainty of our foreign policies in the aftermath of the violence of the dark Tuesday.  In regards to the immediate response of the United States militarily; the United States has not seen such an assault upon its leadership since the assassination of President Abraham Lincoln in 1865.  Without knowing the source and direction of this assault, it was a matter of caution to elevate the state of readiness of our military throughout the world as well as elevating that of law enforcement within the United States.  I am certain these steps would be taken by any nation facing a similar attack upon itself.

                In regards to the foreign policies of the United States, it would be only natural for a new leader to review the policies of his or her predecessor.  At this time, there is no reason for any nation to believe there to be any change in our policies towards them.  To our friends, we stand solidly beside them in friendship and peace.  To those who oppose us, we stand vigilant to defend right, to protect the innocent, and to aid the weak.”

The President’s words were met with a mild round of applause.

                “Today, the nations of the earth are facing turmoil’s both old and new.  The Korean Peninsula continues to be a point of contention.  We have received reports of increased North Korean military staging near the demilitarized zone as well as assault forces boarding vessels waiting to deploy to South Korean waters.  In Pakistan, Afghanistan, and Iraq, protestors are actively in the streets seeking governmental change.

                Let me be very clear; I want no misunderstandings.  The United States military is deployed around the globe for the purpose of maintaining the geopolitical status quo.  This does not mean I am content with the status of the world today.  I would be the first to extend my hand in friendship to a Korean nation.  Not a Korea that is unified by the imposition of power by either North or South, but a Korea unified by the mutual agreement of the peoples of North and South with a government of the people and not of a tyrant.  Until that day we will continue to uphold the status quo on the Peninsula.”

The Assembly for the most part stood to their feet and applauded the President.  A minute later, the assembly began to take their seats and the echo of applauds dissolved.

                “I oppose war.  It is a waste of humanity.  There have been too many times that soldiers of the United States, along with those of members of this assembly, have sacrificed their lives to bring peace to a distant land.  But do not think that the United States is weak.  I do not seek war, but if anyone should try to impose force upon the United States or its allies, the United States will respond with all its might.  Our response will not be one of swiftness followed with years of rebuilding while cowards snipe from the shadows hoping for a climbing body count, such as occurred in Iraq and Afghanistan.  We will strike hard, leaving a path of destruction for that nation to care for.  There is a cost to war, a cost that needs to be carefully considered.  If the United States must respond, the cost will be high and we will not be picking up the check.”

The members of the General Assembly sat quietly as an awkward silence settled over the room. 

                “The United States does not embrace war as a means of negotiation, intimidation, or enlargement of boundaries.  We do all we can to avoid war.  But, if war is necessary, the United States will act in a manner to bring about a swift and definite end for the sake of all parties involved.  These words are harsh and cold, but so is the thought of lives and property being destroyed as the results of war.  The last war on the Korean Peninsula resulted in nearly 5 million lives damaged and destroyed.  If it is in my ability to act to so prevent such bloodshed, I will. 

                There are those here today who are bristling at these words, those who would stand with and who would support an aggressor.  It is to your advantage to reconsider such a position.  We hear the North Koreans boast of their capabilities often; how they can strike the United States with its missiles.  If we must respond to the acts of a mad man, as destructive as they may be, we will do so for the sake of our own citizens and those of our allies.  If missiles are launched, we will respond in like fashion; we will shoot down their missiles, and we will be forced to seek out their launch sites and destroy them.  Destruction and fear respects no borders.  Such a response would be detrimental to an aggressor’s neighbor; consider the fallout of the nearby destruction upon your land and people, consider the refugees fleeing to your lands for safety, overwhelming your resources.  It is advantageous for you to encourage restraint upon the aggressor.

                As for the tensions in the Middle East, we will not interject ourselves into the protests unless called upon by the governments for the sake of stabilizing those nations.  And if asked to respond, our response will be based upon the current state of events.  We will do all we can to avoid a military response, allowing for the people of that nation to act in a democratic manner.  It is our desire for a nation’s citizens to work this matter out on its own without outside influence.

                Outside, in the north garden, a gift from the former Soviet Union sits.  The gift, a statue of a man beating a sword into a plow shear, speaks to all of us of a desire to live together in peace.  From its very beginnings, the United States was founded on the principles of peace and equality. We continue to see thousands desiring to immigrate for such a hope.  As a nation, the United States will do all it can to insure peace.”

President Mitchell folded his papers and placed them in his pocket, then slowly returned to his seat.  As he turned to go, members stood and began again to applaud.  Members stepped forward to take Mitchells hand and shake it.  As the room began to quiet, ambassadors were quickly jotting notes, many sending quick texts to their leadership.

 

XVII

 

Five hours ahead of New York, James Wilson sat in his study at 10 Downing Street. 

                “This Yank needs to learn his place.  Is he trying to start World War Three?”

                “James, you heard what he said.  He opposes war, but he will not run from it if necessary.  The difference between Mitchell and Hart is that Mitchell will hit as hard as he can as fast as he can and he’s not going to rebuild what he destroys.  Hart was a hawk, but toned it down.  Mitchell can’t; the world is taking a hard look at him.  The Americans have always taken a tough approach.  Well, almost always.  Carter was a bit slow to act and it took the fear of Reagan to deal with Iran.”  David Mulrooney knew Mitchell the best of the three prime ministers.  “George, this is going to affect you most, what do you think?”

                “I think I lost precious sleep.  Would anyone expect any other response from the Yanks?  David, I agree with you; there’s not much difference between Jim and Joshua.  And to clarify your point David, Mitchell is simply articulating what Hart would have done.  Jim told me he planned to deal in this manner with the North Koreans.  And I think it’s smart to not rebuild the destruction.  In the case with the Koreans, if they want to invite destruction, then let the destruction fall on them.  We cannot continue to pay off the tantrums of the North’s leader.  And to rebuild after having to respond to the actions of a madman, that is to reward him.”  George Miller had found a fondness for Joshua Mitchell; a man who’s walking through hell and has the guts to stand up and fight back.

                “James, we have always been able to trust the Yanks.  Mitchell may be new to politics compared to everyone else, but he is acting well for the situations he’s encountering.  Jim Hart he isn’t, but Jim was no Joshua Mitchell either.”

                “I know that George, but the man can’t go stomping in mud and not expect to get some on himself and his friends.”  Wilson just couldn’t understand the man.  “Is he expecting us to follow him into battle?”

                “James, he has been very specific, in both what he will do and the help he wants from us.  He hasn’t asked anyone to follow him into battle.  He has clearly spoken only of the United States.  And I don’t think he cares if he gets muddy.  If we get muddy, it will be because we chose to stand with him.  I view this as a test.  Not of his leadership, but whether we will stand by him and him by us.”  Mulrooney looked out his window thinking rain would be good for his garden.  “What he does care about is doing the right thing.  And it’s refreshing to finally see someone willing to go it, even in the mud.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Moshe, the Lion has spoken.  It’s about time such a man should lead the United States.”

                “Yes.  But many will see him lacking compassion.  That was James’ strength.”

                “Moshe, the compassion is there, but he is a warrior.  The compassion of a warrior is expressed differently.  His compassion is seen in his withholding judgment when he can just as easily dispense it.  He will deal harshly, if that is what it takes to bring peace.  We must remember the lesson of Hiroshima; the bomb was used to end a war that would have produced more death in combat than from the bombs themselves.  That is viewed as harsh by many, yet it brought peace at a lesser cost in human life than a continuation of the war.”

                “And what does this say about his relationship with Israel?  Is he willing to be harsh with our enemies to ensure we live in peace?  Alf, this Lions roar is strong, but we must wait to see if his strength matches his roar.”

                “I don’t think we will have long to wait, Moshe.”

*     *     *     *     *

Secretary General Sandoval-Herrera called the General Assembly once more to order.  “I now recognize the Ambassador from North Korea.”

                “Madam Secretary, we have heard from the United States.  We have heard their veiled threats of war.  He does not deny that he ordered the heightened tension on the Korean Peninsula.  He says that he does not want war and yet he plants his flag in an effort to sidetrack reunification of the two nations into one.

                If the President of the United States truly wishes peace, let him withdraw his forces from our lands and trust us to extend our hands in unification.

                As for the movements and preparations of our troops, we simply are acting to prepare to defend ourselves from his warmongering troops and his heightened level of alert.  We have the full support of our friends and allies, and they have promised to come to our aid.”

*     *     *     *     *

In Beijing, the Premier was wide awake.  He had been watching the United Nations address with the governmental officials of the People’s Republic of China.

                “This Mitchell is dangerous, Premier.  He states that he wants the status quo, then yells war.”

                “Yes, he is dangerous.  Will he truly act and leave?  No other American President has spoken in this manner.  He claims not to threaten us.  He does not want to conquer or nation-build.  But he will fight, and destroy, and then walk away?”

                “His Secretary of State called yesterday stating that the President wants peace but is not afraid to go to war.  He was very clear in saying that Mitchell’s argument is with North Korea and that he will not act unless North Korea instigates battle.  Any internal changes to the government of North Korea will be as a result of the people of North Korea and not the United States.”

The Premier sat quietly listening to the discussion.  Finally, he spoke:

                “What do we know of this Mitchell?  He was not elected, so he owes no one; the only promises he has to keep are those he swore an oath to.  He is wounded still and yet he did not hesitate to take on his challenger to solidify his position.  In their Congress, he acted without compromise on positions that should have doomed him, politically.

                I listened to his words and looked at his face.  He stated that he does not want war, but will act quickly to end it quickly.  I believe this President, simply because his words are so different from Americas’ previous policies.  He is not the type of politician we have dealt with before.  This is a disciplinary policy by a new President.  And because I believe this man, I fear what this man says.”

                “But Premier, this could easily be a trick for the United States to gain a further foothold on the peninsula.”  The foreign minister was wiping his forehead.

                “This is not a question of whether or not the United States will act; they will.  If the boy acts, Mitchell will have grounds to respond and his actions will definitely impact us.  And who can blame the United States for acting; especially now.  If the boy tries to prove his manhood with the missiles, the Americans will retaliate, and we will be punished along with the boy.  Then the decision is ours to continue the missile war or not.  We can hurt them but they will hurt us far worse.  And if this President does what he says, the boy will turn to us to fix him and we cannot afford the cost to rebuild for the boy.

                Tell the Americans, we will do all we can to dissuade North Korea from any hostile misunderstandings.  But we will have our forces on standby to insure that the President keeps his word and does not overstay his welcome.  We will not intervene in what he does to North Korea, as long as the President keeps his word.  Then tell the boy to back down from hostilities.  If he chooses to attack the South in the face of America, we will not rescue him; he stands alone.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Sir, the Americans are holding the survivor at a local hospital.  Their Secret Service agent is at the same hospital.”

                “What are their conditions?  Is it possible they may pass from their wounds?”

                “They are in stable condition.  We must clean this matter up.  There cannot be the possibility of the Americans tracing them to us.  There is no link to us in Mexico; we must do the same with the survivor and the agent.”

                “Sir, how do you intend to tie up these loose ends?  How can we kill them without putting attention on ourselves?”

                “I will contact the Colonel.  Perhaps he can use one or two of his men to make it look like fanatic Americans did it.”

 

 

XVIII

 

                “Supreme Leader, we should reconsider this course of action until we have China’s support.  We do not dare face the Americans alone.”

                “Dae-Jung, not to worry; China must say such words publicly, but their heart is with us and when we need their help they will be there.  We cannot back down or I will be breaking trust with the people and they will be shamed.  I am the Supreme Leader and the people are with us.”

                “Supreme Leader, the Americans have had time to prepare for a defense.”

                “My son, their President is weak.  We have seen how he cries; how children lead him about.  He is all words and nothing more.  Do not worry about them.  We will proceed and we will prevail.”

*     *     *     *     *

The USS North Carolina took up position with 4 other attack subs just offshore of the DMZ while the USS Texas led the other four in a speed run around the Peninsula to take up station on the western coast.

*     *     *     *     *

Sunday morning, 1 a.m. local time, the hovercraft departed the harbors at Haeju and Wonsan.  Each assault force was divided into two groups; each group consisting of a fourth of the hovercraft, escorted by light frigates or corvettes.  Eastern force group A is to disembark near Kangnung with the southern group B to disembark at Samchok.  The western forces were to disembark at Inchon and Suwon.  The mechanized assault forces, expecting to make beachheads by 4 a.m., are to be augmented with paratroopers a half hour after the landings.  After the paratroopers have boots on the ground, the ground forces will push through the DMZ and smash the South Korean and American forces. 

The plan, Operation Alabaster, was a shift in planning from the earlier concepts of previous generations.  Rather than aim for the entire peninsula in one move, it had been decided to capture and hold the two Northern provinces of Gangwon and Gyeonggi, and in doing so control Seoul.  Then either the rest of the nation will capitulate, or the North would reinforce the captured provinces and then prepare for the next advance in a slow annexation.

The USS John C. Stennis and company, sat 150 miles offshore of South Korea in the Sea of Japan.  At 2 a.m., the Stennis began flight operations with patrols operating at 35,000 feet, crisscrossing the peninsula 20 miles south of the DMZ.

As the hovercraft proceeded south, they were unaware of the shadows they attracted as they crossed into South Korean waters.

*     *     *     *     *

In Washington D.C., Mitchell sat in the Oval Office with the Congressional leadership in a rare Sunday meeting.  The telephone rang, and the President sat listening carefully, writing notes on the pad in front of him.

                “Ladies and gentleman, North Korea has just entered South Korean waters.  The estimates are 65 hovercraft with mechanized forces in the east, 60 in the west; both groups are being escorted by several frigates and corvettes.  I made it very clear to the Korean and Chinese governments what I would do if any attempt of aggression were to occur.  We have our response from the Chinese Premier; they will not interfere as long as we don’t set up house.  South Korea has asked for aid and has welcomed our operations plan.  The North is silent verbally, but their actions are screaming.”

                “President Mitchell, we will only attack if we are attacked?”  Senator Moore, spoke softly as he stared at the map of the Korean Peninsula on the easel.

                “Lewis, your uncle was Hal Moore, correct?”

The Senator turned his head in surprise.

                “Yes he was.  His were the first American boots on the ground in the battle of la Drang.”

                “And the last off the ground when they pulled out.  Senator, my orders are that we will not fire unless we are either directly engaged in battle or the North acts in direct aggression against the South.  If the assault force turns and approaches within 10 miles of the South Korean coastline, we will act.”

                “Your actions are not an act of war?”  Sandra Knox, a four term Illinois representative, spoke up with an air of disgust.

                “This is mutual aid extended to a friend and ally in need.  If stopping the hovercraft ends this matter, great.  If not, then I will do all it takes to bring a quick, decisive end to the conflict.  I did not go out of my way to interject the United States into a conflict.  We are there for the long haul to support the South and hold the North in place.  I will not have American forces hide while South Koreans fight and die for their land, nor will we play the game of fight and push only so far and then stop.  Either get behind me on this or explain to the American public why you chose for their sons and daughters to die fruitlessly on behalf of this nation and its allies.”

Knox didn’t like this response, but she wasn’t about to face the nation in opposition to a grieving President that had the political and emotional support of the nation.  Moore studied Mitchells face, his body language.  The Senator could see the President had a confidence in the military like a strong man holding a fierce dog on a short leash.  Did Mitchell really have the Joint Chiefs on a short leash?  Who was controlling who?

*     *     *     *     *

                “Ambassador Kim, we see your forces moving below the Demilitarized Zone. 

                “Mr. Williams, we have no forces below the Demilitarized Zone.”

                “Really, Sir?  You do not have 125 hovercrafts with assault forces off the coast of South Korea?

                “Mr. Williams, your President has made it clear in his address to the United Nations that he intends to attack us.  Our actions are solely preventative.”

                “Really Ambassador?   Since when are the waters south of the DMZ controlled by North Korea?  We see your hovercraft moving down both coasts into South Korean waters.  We have very excellent satellites.  How is violating their territorial waters defensive?  I can understand domestic deployment in preparation, but not aggressive actions inviting hostility.”

                “Mr. Williams, your taunts and lies are unacceptable.  We will act to defend ourselves.”

                “Ambassador, turn your fleets around and we will allow you to return home unmolested.  Continue and the President will do more than just molest your forces.”

*     *     *     *     *

The fleet of hovercraft divided in two; half idling 20 miles offshore while the other half sped further south.  The American sub commanders had quite the discussion on the run from Pearl to the Sea of Japan.  They were trained to work independently, hunting on their own, not in pack formation.  Battle plans had been developed and contingencies were put in place if the packs had to split.

The crews on the other hand were trying to understand how they were going to sink hovercraft.  You can’t torpedo hovercraft because they glide over the surface.  Missiles won’t work because of so small a heat signature. 

The subs had received modifications recently at Pearl Harbor, and now were deploying with smaller versions of the SUBROC.  SUBROCs, or officially - submarine rockets, are rockets launched through torpedo tubes.  They then surface and fly to a designated location where, they fall into the sea acting as depth charges.  Accuracy is not necessary since the depth charge carries a 5 kiloton nuclear warhead guaranteeing a kill zone of five miles. 

The SUBROC IIs onboard were a quarter of the weight of the big brothers with a design modification for short range, non-nuclear use.  Equipped with a laser guidance package, the SUBROCs could be guided by the laser attached to the scope tower, accurate up to two miles.  So rather than lobbing death miles away, these are bullets shot at close range. 

*     *     *     *     *

The Situation Room was well equipped, with sufficient monitors, and comfortable chairs.  The President was in his seat.  The guest list included Vice President Marshall, Acting Secretary of State Williams, Acting Defense Secretary Anderson, CIA Director Huntington, Speaker Pickerill, Senators Perkins and Moore, and select members of the Chiefs.  The President listened as updates were being announced in the room.  The Chiefs were conferring with their underlings, while Vice President Marshall did her best to follow everything going on in the room. 

                “A lot to take in, Whitney?”

                “Joshua, how do you keep it all straight?  All the updates, previous locations, expected destinations.  So much info relayed so fast.” 

Stetson smiled to himself hearing someone in the White House actually address him by his first name.  It took threatening Whitney Marshall with impeachment and disbarment to persuade her to do so.  How long did it take me to call Jim by his first name? 

                “People forget that I worked for the Sheriff’s Department for 30 years.  We had to keep track of containments, details of multiple operations, which personnel were in the field and who weren’t.  This is just law enforcement on steroids.  When I was a dispatcher, we mapped out situations on scraps of paper.  Simple ‘x marks the spot’ diagrams.  Unless you were following the radio traffic, it would look like some cryptic code.”

Marshall could see Mitchell was at ease in this environment.

                “Joshua, two weeks ago seems so far away.  How are you able to move so easily between then and now?”

                “I haven’t.  Right now is simply a distraction.  I am still in pain physically and the memory of Constance is still fresh like it happened this morning.  But right now I have my military in harm’s way and a friendly nation hanging in the balance.  My focus has to be here, now.” 

                “Mr. President, the hovercrafts are inbound at full speed; 15 miles out and approaching.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Captain, targets 12 miles out and closing.”

                “Up periscope.”

The Captain slowly swept the horizon looking for the hovercraft, and the big boys protecting them, in the partial moonlight.  There’s the hovercraft.  The frigate is nowhere to be seen; the captain must think his job is done. 

                “Captain, all targets within the 11 mile zone.” 

                “Forward tubes prepare to fire.” 

We have those to the left; North Carolina has those to the right.  The Captain placed the crosshairs on a hovercraft and pushed and held a button. 

                “Captain, they are within the 10 mile zone now, Sir.”

                “Comm to Fire Control, is the music playing?”

                “Fire Control to Comm, the music is playing.”

                “Target is painted, Fire One!”

The Captain continued to hold the button in and the periscope on the target.  A minute later, the hovercraft was in flames, the rocket hitting the fuel tank.  Releasing the button, the Captain acquired a second target and pushed the button again.

                “Target painted, Fire Two!”

Again, the Captain held the target lit with the laser.  The second target was dead in the water.

*     *     *     *     *

The pilot of the lead hovercraft could hear other pilots yelling over the radio.  He turned his head in time to see the craft to his right explode.  How can this be happening?

                “Group A, report.” 

Before anyone could report, the lead hovercraft was struck.  The fuel tanks exploded.  The explosion caused the craft to go further airborne, and then strike the water hard.  Most of the personnel were dead.  With no power to the motors, the hovercraft was in flames drifting 8 miles off Kangnung.

Within minutes 22 hovercraft were adrift and in flames.  The remaining 8 were engaged by the ROK navy.  Though more maneuverable than the larger ships, the hovercraft were less protected from the rounds fired from the ROK navy.  The hovercrafts were ripped by the incoming rounds.  By the time the North Korean frigate arrived, the ROK was conducting rescue operations of the survivors.  The frigate raced towards the damaged hovercraft only to turn hard to port and speed away as the ROK pursued to defend its waters. 

Group B fared worse; 35 hovercrafts were destroyed off Samchok before the ROK arrived.  On the west coast, the North Koreans fared just as badly.  Not one hovercraft touched South Korean soil.

*     *     *     *     *

In the air, things were a bit more challenging.  As the assault force began its approach of the coastline, transports were quickly approaching the DMZ.  Fighters from the USS Stennis were waiting at 30,000 feet, while South Korean fighters were on alert, ready for takeoff. 

As the transports entered the DMZ airspace, South Korean air traffic controllers were trying to get the North Korean pilots to identify.

                “Unidentified aircraft, acknowledge. … You are entering South Korean airspace, identify. … Unidentified aircraft, acknowledge or you will be shot down. … “  No acknowledgement.  It was like dealing with children sitting in the middle of a room under a blanket.  You can’t see me, because the blanket is over me.  And if you can’t see me, then I’m not here.

The order was given and the South Korean Air Force fighters launched, screaming down the runway and through the air to confront the enemy.  As the transports flew low, MI 24 gunships accompanied the MI 26 Halo’s, while MiG 21’s provide cover for the Ilyushin Il-62s.

No sooner did the last MiG cross the DMZ, the navy Super Hornets from the Stennis turned to engage.  The Il-62’s continued south as the MiG’s drew the attention of the American fighters.  The Hornets dove on the MiGs and soon the sky was filled with hunters and defenders circling one another.  To the east VMFA-323 was engaging the gunships and the 4 Halos, each Halo loaded with 90 infantrymen.  The Marines made quick work of the helicopters and turned west.

The Il-62’s made their way south only to be engaged by the South Koreans.  The pilots had a choice, either they turned back and make a run for the North, or deployed the jumpers early.  The Classics banked left as if to return north, but before the turn was half completed, chutes began to fill the sky.  Before the Classics could complete their turn, the South Koreans released their missiles, one plane crippled with most of one wing gone and quickly descending, a second with a missing tail section, and the remaining two diving in balls of flames, .

*     *     *     *     *

                “Mr. President, the assault force is dead in the water.  The closest hovercraft is 3 miles off Inchon.  The ROK reports downing four Ilyushin Il-62 transports just north of Seoul.  And the Stennis air group reports 30 MiG’s down, 17 limping home.  The Hornets broke off the pursuit and returned to south of the DMZ.  The Marine air corps took out 23 gunships and 6 transports.  Prior to going down, the transports were able to deploy half of their paratroopers; ROK forces were able to respond quickly and greet their guests and extend a special hospitality”.

                “What about the North Korean troops at the DMZ?”

                “Sir, they are just sitting there.  They had been rolling hard and then just stopped at the DMZ.  According to the Korean intelligence service, the forward command received word that the landings and air advance failed; now they are waiting for instructions from the Marshal.  They know we are out there and although they think they can overwhelm the South, they are uncertain of what we have waiting for them.”

The President turned to Williams, who is sitting in the corner taking careful notes of what has happened:

                “Todd, you’re with me.”  The President, Vice President, and the Secretary of State entered the private conference room.  The small monitor in the room was on; set to one of the news networks.  A journalist was already broadcasting from the peninsula giving a firsthand account of the aerial battle that took place.  A moment later they were joined by a Korean translator.  “Alright Todd, let’s call them.  Tell them, I will allow them to back down.  No conditions, no consequences.  Enough brave men have died today.”

Williams picked up the phone and made the call. 

                “Mr. Kim, the President of the United States will cease hostilities if the North Korean army pulls back from the DMZ.  He believes enough men have died today.  He will allow you to walk away without conditions or consequences.”

Williams put his phone on speaker.  It was apparent Kim was receiving his response from the Supreme Leader to relay to Williams.

                “Mr. Williams, the North Korean army will back away from the Demilitarized Zone if the United States admits its crimes against the People of North Korea with its unprovoked attack upon the North Korean navy and air force.  Otherwise we will act to rescue our personnel held hostage by your surrogates in the South.”

Now it was Kim’s turn to wait for the response.

                “Mr. Kim, this is the response of the President of the United States.  I know you have 400,000 men ready to surge across the Demilitarized Zone, and approximately 300,000 in reserve.  If you decide to pursue this war, your military better succeed because I will not leave a North Korea for them to return to.  I will guarantee half of your army will be dead within 24 hours.  Your reserves will not be able to reinforce your army.  Your land will be in flames and your cities in darkness.  You may pull your forces back now without ramifications, otherwise I will leave your people with the desire for a new leader.  These are the words of the President of the United States.”

The translator from State listened as Kim relayed the message.  He signaled to the President that the message was properly relayed.  The translator also noted a lot of discussion in the background; a lot of voices saying to back down.  Finally the ‘Supreme Leader’ spoke in an uncertain tone.

                “This is the response of the Supreme Leader of North Korea.  You boast of what you cannot do.  We will launch our missiles upon you and your surrogates.  We will take and rule Korea and you will be powerless.  If you lift your sanctions against the people of North Korea, we will spare you the pain of our missiles and allow you to leave Korea peaceably.”

                “The United States will not negotiate.  We remain in South Korea to preserve the geopolitical status quo in the region.  You may launch your missiles, and we will shoot your missiles down.  But we will also launch our missiles; one for one, and they will strike you.  You have been told what we will do if your army enters the Demilitarized Zone.  We are not only able to do as we say, we are ready to act now and you will not be able to stop it.  You stand alone; China will not come to your rescue.  This is your only opportunity to back away without experiencing the might of the United States.”

The North Korean leader listened to the response.  He did not like what he heard.  This is not the United States he has dealt with in the past.  Rattle the sabre and they negotiate.  Even if the concessions are not what were initially asked for, they always responded back in some manner to appease.  This President won’t even negotiate on the brink of war.  Are we really on our own?  He wouldn’t be this bold if China was there. 

                “To prevent the unnecessary slaughter of Americans, we will grant you 72 hours to remove your military from harm’s way.  This we do as an act of friendship towards the United States.”

The President shook his head.

                “The United States will not leave.  The United States will not back down.  As an act of friendship, the United States will permit you two hours to begin the pulling back of forces from the Demilitarized Zone without conditions or consequences.  This is our final offer.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “This is Jee-ho Nam with CNS.  I’m embedded with the South Korean Navy aboard the destroyer ROKS Yulgok Yi.  The Republic of Korea Navy responded to reports of North Korean     hovercraft approaching the northern coastline of South Korea during the early morning hours               today. 

                The Yulgok Yi discovered a fleet of 30 hovercrafts with tanks and personnel within South              Korean waters approximately 7 miles offshore of Kangnung.  This footage shows most of the    hovercrafts without power, drifting; some still burning.  Eight or so attempted to continue    towards Kangnung and were engaged by the Yulgok Yi and another ship.  Later a North Korean            frigate entered South Korean territorial waters and quickly retreated when challenged.

                Rescue operations are still underway as patrol boats approach the hovercrafts to lend medical aid to the North Korean prisoners.  It is still unknown how many wounded and dead personnel     are among those aboard the hovercrafts.  Reports at this time state that the crafts were hit by             missiles launched by submerged sources.  The South Koreans are denying involvement with the    missile attacks.

                We have received similar reports of hovercrafts attacked near Samchok, Inchon, and Suwon.     Reports have also been received of North Korean Helicopters shot down in the Gangwon        province and transports shot down north of Seoul by the South Korean Air Force while American     pilots had engaged North Korean fighters just south of the DMZ earlier today.

                This appears to be an attempt by the North to place forces in South Korea preceding an                invasion.  ROK forces are on full alert, with several divisions of US military having been moved       into forward areas.  Tensions are reported to still be high as North and South Korean forces face          off at the DMZ.”

*     *     *     *     *

The North Korean leader watched the report.  Hovercrafts are not supposed to sink.  This was the Americans.  And they have several additional divisions deployed.  If they did this, what other surprises do they have in store?

The President watched the report.  He knew the damage that had been done.  The footage made it even more real.

                “Mr. Williams, you may tell the President that for the sake of peace in the region, we will unilaterally pull our personnel back from the Demilitarized Zone.  We will not hesitate to let the world know how small a man your President is.  We expect the return of the all North Koreans being held hostage by you and your surrogates.”

                “Mr. Kim, the United States accepts your withdrawal of forces from the Demilitarized Zone.  We will stand by to insure you do not need any further assistance in your withdrawal.  Your detained personnel will be allowed to return as soon as the South Korean government processes them.”

 

XIX

 

It was late Sunday evening as operations were wrapping up in the Situation Room.  Mitchell was weary from the long day, and Marshall could tell that Stetsons demeanor had changed; earlier he was calm, confident, and in control dealing with a dictator, now he was restless, fatigued, and aged.

                “Talk about an adrenaline drop.  How do you handle shifting gears like that?  And have you always been so aggressive in negotiations?”

                “The bigger the incident is, the greater the drop in adrenalin.  The secret is to not allow yourself to get so caught up in the drama.  You’re part of it; you just don’t match the situation with your emotions.  The saying, ‘calmer heads will prevail’ is very true; not just in the negotiations, but in your own emotional health.  If I hadn’t kept it dialed back today, the situation would have turned sour, and I would be a basket case now.” 

Marshall was taking mental notes of what was being said. 

                “As for negotiations,” Stetson thought for a moment, “there are always hard limits, but for the most part everything is flexible.  The main thing is to give options to achieve what we wanted.  For example, you simply don’t tell a young child to get dressed for school.  If you do, they will go to school every day as their favorite superhero or princess.  Instead, you give them the options you already chose for them to pick between.  That way they are dressed properly and they participated in choosing.  With Junior, we wanted him to back down.  Normally I would have given options with incentives, but he had a couple things going against him.  He views aggression as a negotiation method; that doesn’t work with me.  Second, he is recalcitrant; this is not the first time he has tried this.  Third, in the manner in which I ascended to the Presidency, I couldn’t show any compromise; America is watching me, seeing if I will lead or crumple.”

                “So you permitted him to back down without consequences.  Some will say that you were too soft with him.  And what did you have in mind if he didn’t back down?”  Marshall had negotiated before, but never when lives were at stake.  If she was expected to assume the Presidency in a heartbeat, she needed to learn what she could.  And she just witnessed the game at its highest stakes.

                “We know what his intentions were, and his actions were significant.  But he never touched shore with his hovercrafts, and his planes were shot down.  He failed.  So rather than encouraging him to take another try, I encouraged him to go home.  Had he refused I would have at least matched his actions.  If his army just sat there, we would have reinforced the DMZ.  Had they started across the DMZ, I would have hit just north of the zone with napalm and burned the area back several miles.  This would have prevented further movement south with reinforcements.  The North’s side of the Zone would have been pummeled with missiles.  This would have destroyed a sizable portion of his troops and armor.  The southern air fields would have been taken out, giving us further control of the skies.  And I would have hit the central military facility and the communications hub in the capitol, thus confusing the command ability.  Very few of their forward commanders are willing to take the initiative.  It’s a weakness of theirs from depending on Junior and his aides so much.”

Whitney Marshall looked at the President, stunned.  It wasn’t what he said that stunned her; it was that he already had the plan.

                “You were prepared to have done all that?”

Mitchell looked wearily at Whitney.

                “Yes, we were prepared to have done all that.  The Reagan group had just gone on station and was initiating air ops.  We had the USS Pennsylvania join the USS North Carolina, both prepared to launch if necessary.  Two packs of attack subs were positioned to deal with the North’s navy.  We had a full operations plan with four response options.  You know you never ask a question of a rival without knowing the answer; never confront an enemy without a plan of attack.”

                “Can I look through the plan?”

                “Sure, it’s there on the table.  It just can’t leave the room.”

Whitney Marshall walked to the table and opened a red binder.  Operation Woodshed.  She flipped through the binder and read the outlines for the options.  Mitchell really did plan to take Junior behind the woodshed.  Ouch!

*     *     *     *     *

Monday morning had an interesting flavor: the staff was in a celebratory spirit after the Presidents ‘victory’ over the North Koreans.  Both Mike Rodgers and Mary Johnson noted that the boss looked a bit refreshed.  The previous day’s events had been so emotionally exhausting, Joshua actually slept.  He almost called in sick and rolled over to sleep more, then realized first, there was no one to tell that he wasn’t coming in, and second, Secret Service would kick the residence front door in for the White House Physician.  So much for calling in sick.

Ron Agnew was in for his morning update.

                “Sir, we are making progress.  Everything is pointing to the Middle East.  Our moles were paid by a Mohammad bin Al-Karzah.  The sole surviving assassin was trained in the Middle East.  We responded with Mexican forces to a compound just outside Chihuahua.  All we found was a couple Qurans; no people.  Then we discovered a shallow mass grave behind the barn.  They slaughtered everyone.  The Mexican authorities, the cartel, everyone wants them dead.  This might break the cartels willingness to work with the poppy growers.  We are working with the local authorities to identify the men.”

                “Are we ready to start prosecuting?”  The President’s eyes narrowed with the question.  He cannot shake the dreams focusing on the red head with the white grips.

                “Sir, we are not.  I want to continue the investigation with these men in custody.  I am hoping to draw out more about who is behind this.  And I want to keep the decoys in place.  I still have an uneasy feeling that someone is going to try to silence our guys.”

                “Ron, can you articulate why you have the gut feeling?”

                “Why send a hit team into a situation they can’t walk away from?  They involved the Secret Service, and had all their intel.  They should have known that the USCP would join the fire fight against them.  We found no getaway vehicles.  This was a suicide mission.  And if we took anyone alive, there is the chance they would point to the main guy.  They put a lot of effort into cutting ties to the hit team.  Down in Mexico, all those family members were executed.  They’re going to tie up the loose ends at the hospital.”

                “Okay, Ron.  It’s your show; just make sure there are solid convictions.”

*     *     *     *     *

The fifth floor at George Washington was busy with its usual activity.  Most of the patients at Nurses Station B were post-surgery, extended recovery/isolation.  The fifth floor was also the frequent environment of medical students touring the rooms, practicing their evaluation skills.  The med students moving from room to room where accustomed to the presence of uniformed officers on duty outside several of the rooms.  5207 had the wounded assassin and 5215 had the wounded Secret Service agent.  Everyone knew.  And only government physicians were permitted in the rooms.

Today’s hoard of students included two new hopefuls, visiting from Stanford University.  As the students slowly made their way down the hall, moving in and out of rooms, the security outside both rooms stepped away to confer at the nurses’ station.  As the group entered 5206, the two students from Stanford entered 5207.

Inside the room, a Hispanic male laid in the bed with IV’s running to his left arm; his right arm resting on the bed under the sheet.  The two ‘students’ walked over to the bed, one picking up the extra pillow off the chair while the other pulled out a hypodermic from his lab coat.  The Hispanic was pleading for mercy in Spanish, while pushing a panic button hidden under the sheet with his left hand.  The right hand gripped a Glock.

Before the hypodermic could be used, the security entered the room ordering the two to raise their arms.  But rather than comply, the one lunged at the bed with the needle.  The agent in the bed fired one shot to the chest of the falling suspect, and then deflected the dead weight to the floor.  The other man stood with his hands clutching the pillow above his head, eyes wide from the sound of the gunshot from under the sheets.

The 2 uniformed FBI agents were cuffing the pillow man and the undercover agent held the wounded suspect at gunpoint when the room filled with staff and students.

*     *     *     *     *

The President’s weekly Intel briefing was in progress in the Oval Office.  NSA, CIA, FBI, and State were drinking coffee, covering everything to be known globally. 

                “Todd, you did some fine work yesterday.  I admired how you kept your cool.  What’s the scuttlebutt this morning?”

                “Sir, your speech at the UN did its job.  You put our allies at ease and shook up everyone else.  The phone didn’t stop ringing Friday night or Saturday.  You took a lot of folks by surprise with your disciplinary policy, with most of NATO and our friends in the Pacific scoring you with 9’s and 10’s.  Then last night and this morning everyone wanted to know the extent of our involvement with North Korea.”

                “Most of NATO?  Who was displeased, was it Great Britain?”

                “Yes, their foreign secretary was quite polite about their neutrality on the speech, but someone in the background was a bit vocal.  He was speaking English, but I have trouble understanding course British English.”  The group began laughing.

                “You certainly had a long weekend.  What did you say about our involvement?”

                “I told them that the United States was in direct contact with the North Korea government, doing all we could to quell the hostilities.  Our military involvement was limited, playing a supportive role to the South Korean military.  The extent of our actual involvement should be addressed by the Secretary of Defense; I can only speak authoritatively in regards to the diplomatic front.”

                “Todd, that was smooth.  You really want to keep the job, huh?”  Huntington laughed his husky laugh, and the rest of the group joined in.

                “Preston, I’m not sure if I do or not; I don’t think I can handle many more weekends like this one.  I think I need to start dying my hair darker to hide this weekend’s graying.”  Williams sat there shaking his head.

                “Todd, as far as I am concerned, the job is yours.  You have proved yourself over the past two weeks.  This weekend was your baptism of fire.  If you agree, I will submit your name to Congress to make it official.”  Mitchell gave an approving nod and smiled.

                “Thank you, sir.  I won’t disappoint you.”

                “Is there anything else from State?”

                “Just that the neutral Brits with the non-understandable English want to pay an official visit in a couple weeks; they want to discuss the North Korean incident, firm up some NATO stuff, and to be honest just have a face to face so they can figure you out.”

                “Patton said it best in the movie, we’re two nations separated by a common language.  Okay, work out the details and get it set in stone with the Social Secretary regarding the State Dinner and stuff.  Preston, what’s going on in the Middle East?”

                “Well, Mr. President, we are seeing hostilities in Pakistan, Afghanistan, Turkmenistan, and Iraq.  We have young protestors raging over western influences in their governments and demanding a return to traditional Islamic values.  They are seeing high dollar value damage, but few injuries.”

                “Is this something that has been brewing for a while and was expected?”

                “No.  Well, not Pakistan.  We wouldn’t have been surprised by Iraq and Afghanistan because of our extensive intervention in their countries: first the wars, then the rebuilding of the infrastructure, and our continued presence with military advisors.  There has been opposition for some time, but nothing so intense.  The protests we received had been Taliban incited.  Pakistan has us dumbfounded though.  They are, or were, a stable political environment.  Our interaction with the Pakistani government was never anything more than financial support.  The protests were first in Pakistan, and are far more aggressive than the conditions would normally dictate.  If there had been friction for months to a year, then I can see burning government buildings.  But not something that has only been brewing for a couple weeks.”

                “So, is this a grassroots generated protest, or is there someone behind this?”

                “That’s something we are running down.  The protest was launched in part through a media campaign.  All the outlets are either owned or influenced by someone named Al-Karzah.  The message is being fanned by clerics, university professors and the like.  All of them are conservative Islamist.  Mossad is working with us on this, trying to put together bios on the most vocal ones and looking for connections.”

Mitchell sat quietly in his chair, the silence stretching into an uncomfortable minute.

                “Preston, did you say Al-Karzah?”  Mitchell flipped through his steno pad.  “Mohammad bin Al-Karzah?”

Huntington looked down at his notes, and then pulled out his phone.

                “Mr. President, I did say Al-Karzah, but my notes don’t have any first names.  If you will give me a moment I can find out.  Why?”

                “Mohammad bin Al-Karzah is connected to the assassinations.  Find out.  We’ll wait.”

Preston Huntington immediately called his office at Langley.  After a couple minutes of searching through his desk by his secretary, Huntington had the information.

                “According to Mossad, the media outlets involved are owned and operated by the Al-Karzah family.  Abbud bin Al-Karzah is the family patriarch.  Mohammad is his son: he’s on the board of Al-Jazeera and operates several smaller television stations in Iraq, Turkmenistan and Afghanistan.”

Joshua Mitchell returned to his silence.  What’s going on here?

*     *     *     *     *

                “Ron, your gut paid off.  We have two in custody.  One is receiving medical treatment for a gunshot to the chest.  The other is cuffed in a cell.”

                “Good job, Mike.  Is he talking yet?”

                “Not yet.  We found potassium cyanide pills on both of them, so I figure this was a suicide mission and neither planned to say anything to anyone.”

                “Do they know we have their pills?  And do we have any ID yet?”

                “No confirmation on their identities yet, and yes they know we have their pills.”

                “Mike, I’ll bring CIA in on this; they have connections with Mossad.  Maybe they can shed some light on them.”

                “How aggressive can we be with the interrogations?”

                “As aggressive as the law will allow.”

                “Okay, Ron.  Hopefully we will have confirmed identifications soon.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Jeff, you realize that they were going to kill you?”  Harris hoped the realization would make Thoms more cooperative.

                “You expect me to believe that?”

                “Look, we have you.  Your cooperation is the only thing that may keep a needle out of your arm.  If you don’t cooperate, you can expect to be put down like a dog.  It’s to everyone’s benefit to keep you alive.  We have your deposition, so if I were to pull the security from your door and walk away, we just have to work harder to learn what your gravestone is hiding.”

Thoms had laid everything out for Harris.  Well almost everything.  There was the contact who threatened to kill his sister and her family if he talked.  Without the name of the contact, the government only had him.

                “Jeff, why are you willing to die?  This isn’t taking a bullet for the President.  This is suicide.”  Harris had been trying to figure out what would turn an agent from protection to assassination.  Jeffrey Thoms was a good agent when he was a good agent.  Then he turned and now he almost wishes death to take him.  Then a thought came to Harris.  “Jeff, who are you taking the bullet for?”

                “What are you talking about?”  Thoms tried to shrug it off, but the beads of sweat that broke out on his forehead betrayed him.

                “You are taking the bullet for someone.  Why you got roped into this, I don’t understand; but someone is buying your silence.  You are taking the bullet for someone.  Who?”

Thoms began to panic.  His heart rate jumped 30 points and was still climbing.  He began seizing in the bed.  A nurse raced into the room.  Within moments the room was filled with staff trying to save his life.  All Harris could do was stand in the corner and pray he wouldn’t die.

*     *     *     *     *

Stetson was sitting on the couch in the Office with his leg up.  On the coffee table in front of him, a stack of folders patiently awaited his attention.  He felt like a teacher grading papers.  Not too much of a reach considering the folders were the homework assignments he had given to the cabinet two weeks earlier.  He was actually impressed with the work that went into them.  Treasury’s and the Attorney Generals showed a lot of thought behind the arguments.  And those arguments gave a lot of support to what Mitchell was already thinking.

                “Boss, Ron Agnew on the line.”

                “Thanks Mary.  Give me a moment to make it to the desk.”

No sooner did he sit and rest his leg on an open drawer, his phone rang.

                “Ron, what do you have for me?”

                “Mr. President, sir, I have two assassins in custody.  They tried to kill one of my decoys at George Washington.”

                “Your gut paid off.  What do we know about them?”

                “Sir, they are Middle Eastern.  FBI is working with CIA to confirm their identities.  We are hoping Mossad can help us link them somewhere.  They aren’t talking and are upset we took their cyanide from them.”

                “So this was a one way mission for them?”

                “Looks like it.  Also our mole is in ICU following a cardiac arrest.  Rob Harris was working him, trying to get him to name his connection when he had a heart attack.  Harris thinks he is trying to protect someone.  Protect them from the bad guy.”

                “Okay, keep me posted.  Has Huntington or his liaison spoken to you yet?”

                “No, sir.  What do they have for me?”

                “Mohammad bin Al-Karzah.  Today during my intelligence briefing, Huntington was briefing me on the activity in the Middle East.  It appears certain media outlets are fanning the discontent.  And Al-Karzah owns the newspapers doing the fanning.  Is it just a coincidence, Ron?”

                “I don’t know if there is any connection sir, but he just shot to the top of my list.  I will certainly be calling my guy at Langley for more information.  It does further confirm that this is a Middle Eastern operation.  I hope to have more for you soon, Mr. President.”

                “Happy hunting, Ron.”

                “Thank you, Mr. President.”  

 

 

XX

 

After four days of violence, the Pakistani President finally decided to seek help.  Meeting with the Parliament leadership in a late night session, it was decided to request peacekeepers and to call for new elections.  Instead of asking for UN forces, the Islamic Defense Force was sought; everyone in Parliament feared how the protesters would respond to “western” soldiers in the capitol city and Pakistan had made a large financial investment into the IDF.  A call was made and before dawn the IDF was on the ground controlling Islamabad.

The morning television reports in the region showed protestors applauding the Defense Force and bringing them refreshments.   The newspapers put out a late morning edition praising the government for calling for elections and the sensitivity to ask for the IDF rather than run to the United Nations.  The praise ended quickly as article after article blasted the president and numerous members of parliament for their western oriented political philosophies.  The papers seemed more like special election editions than pleas for peace and detailing of events.

As the day wore on, the Islamic Defense Force moved from city to city.  Television crews followed the IDF advancement showing forces being welcomed as they entered the towns and cities, much like the Allies were as they liberated Europe in World War II.  And as the IDF moved through the area, instant calm followed.

*     *     *     *     *

Roy Grant listened as the reports blared around him.  Things just didn’t seem right.  The protestors responded too aggressively for the suddenness of the frustration: now peace is being achieved too easily. 

                “What’s the matter, Roy?”  Alan Hawkins had been standing behind Grant for several moments, watching him shake his head at the news reports.

                “Alan, these reports, something just isn’t right.  Remember how we were saying the protests were too extreme for how short the frustration period was?  Now peace is being restored too quickly for the extreme level of protest.  It’s like someone pulling a shade.  Pull the shade down and instantly you have marches, protests, and buildings burning.  A tug on the shade and it rolls up and the protests immediately end.  I would almost say that all of this is choreographed.”

                “You thought someone or thing was behind the protests, now you think the same is behind the peace?”

                “I’m just saying things are not happening as they should be expected.  The frustrations should have been growing longer for the level of protests we see.  The protests should have taken longer to reach the point they did.  Peace should not be instantaneous.  That level of protest should have been overcome more slowly.  Where are the confrontations?  There are none.  Remember Egypt and Libya?  The protests continued even after concessions were made and the governments stepped down.  This isn’t making sense.”

                “How have you been doing connecting the dots?”

                “I’ve been able to connect a number of the clerics and professors with media outlets.”

                “Really?”  Hawkins was giving Grant a lot more leeway than his other analysts.  Then again Roy had earned it.  Roy was smart, and had come through for Hawkins in the past.  He needed to tell Roy about the connection between the assassination and the protests.

                “At first, the group seemed too diverse to be connected.  I didn’t think there could be a link between academia and religion.  Then I started researching Al-Karzah seeing if there is a link to this movement.  That’s when I stumbled upon a series of lectures that featured Danyal bin Al-Karzah.  He spoke on the need for a unified Islam and how it could be achieve in a single generation.  Israel’s existence was evidence of a divided Islam: he went so far as to say that Israel is the very cause of a divided Islam.  If the Middle Eastern nations were united, acting as one, Israel could not exist.  I did follow up on the lectures and found that almost all those on my list were attendees at some point.”

                “You said the name was Danyal bin Al-Karzah?  Any relation to Mohammad bin Al-Karzah?”

                “Danyal is Mohammad’s older brother.  Al-Karzah is the focal point.  His family oversees much of the media involved.  Danyal is a member of the IDF, like a founding Colonel.”

                “Tell me more about these lectures.”

                “I was able to get some of the material and a list of attendees.  Most of the clerics and professors on my list, plus members of the various media outlets attended.  According to the course material, Islam’s weakness is in their differences.  Eliminate the differences and focus on the commonalities.  It is Al-Karzah’s opinion that no reason exists for boundaries between countries in the Middle East.”

Hawkins’ gut started to churn.

                “Roy, be in my office in ten minutes.”

Grant didn’t know what to think.  Alan Hawkins was always moving from cubical to cubical doing his recon.  He had never called anyone to the office before, except to chew them out semi privately. 

                “Okay, Alan.  See you in ten.”

Alan Hawkins raced to his office.  This is too hot to keep from upstairs.

*     *     *     *     *

Ron Agnew sat at the head of the table in the conference room down the hall from his office.  The commission was wrapping up its meeting.

                “Carlyle, what is going on with State?”

                “Ron, the Ministerial Federal Police has been following up on the compound outside Chihuahua.  They possibly know the location of the poppy farmers.  They want this to be a joint operation with us.  I suggested FBI and DEA.  They want the President to know they are being good neighbors, probably positioning for something down the pike.”

                “Mike, have they contacted you?”

                “This is news to me, Ron, but I will give the Director a heads up and will let you know as soon as the call comes in.  How old is this, Car.”

                “We were contacted just before I headed over here.  They didn’t give away any info on where the farmers are.  The Federales really want these guys and are doing everything to avoid a leak.  The compound hasn’t even been mentioned on the news.  The farmers are probably thinking they are in the clear.”

Perkin’s cell buzzed and he checked his email.  “Ron, the Federales just called the Bureau and made a request for personnel.”  Perkins pocketed his cell phone.

                “Okay.  Mike, keep me apprised of the Bureau’s response.  Carlyle, tell the Feds we will provide any aid they need. Rob, I’m going to join you on your next visit with Thoms.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “So, Alan, did I do something?”

                “Yep, follow me.”

Grant followed Hawkins to the elevator.  Roy noticed they were headed to the top floor.

                “Alan, what did I do to earn a trip to the principal’s office?”

                “I’ll let them tell you, but the visit is because of a job well done.”

The two men stepped off the elevator and walked to the Deputy Director of Intelligence’s office.  Inside, the Director and the DDI were waiting.

                “Mr. Grant, you have some things to share with us.”

                “Director Huntington, what would you like to know?  I’m a little out of my league here.”

Huntington turned to Hawkins, “Alan, have you told him?”

Hawkins shook his head no.

                “Roy, apparently you believe there is something more going on in the Middle East besides people being upset.  Alan trusts you.  He trusts your gut, your insights.  I was with the President earlier this morning and shared your insights with him.  He seemed very impressed with your work and the results.  He took an exceptional interest in the name ‘Mohammad bin Al-Karzah’.”

                “With Mohammad bin Al-Karzah?”

                “Mr. Al-Karzah is connected with the assassination.”

Roy Grant’s eyes went wide as the Director and the DDI told him of Al-Karzah’s connection to the moles.  As he took it all in, his jaw opened, closed, and then opened again.

                “Roy, tell the director what you shared with me.”  Alan Hawkins took a seat in the corner and left Grant to repeat his feeling about the tensions, and his findings that link Al-Karzah to the Middle East unrest.

                “Alan, you’re sitting there working the jigsaw in your head.  What are you seeing?”  Both Huntington and the DDI knew no one better when it came to understanding the region. 

                “Director, Deputy Director, we have a group of people in positions of influence advocating political change.  The group is linked to the money man who paid off moles in the Secret Service.  The questions hanging in the air; what is being played out in the Middle East, and why was the assassination of James Hart connected?  Who is behind all this, Al-Karzah or someone else?”

                “So what is happening in the Middle East is connected to the assassination.”

                “Yes.  Everything we are hearing from the Attorney General points to Middle Eastern involvement.  Mohammad Al-Karzah is involved in both. 

                “Alan, what is the name of your contact at Mossad?”

                “Asaf Blum, Director.”

                “Alright, I will brief the President and I will contact Mossad and make sure Mr. Blum is in the loop on this.  Give him a call and get some answers.  And Roy has earned in on this.”

                “Yes sir, Director.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Allah is with us, Sheikh.”

                “Yes, Allah be praised.  He has blinded the Americans.  They focus on the Koreans and leave us alone.  We must act while we have our opportunity.  As we grow in strength the Americans grow weaker.  Allah will insure the destruction of the arrogant infidels.”

                “So all is well with Pakistan?”

                “All is going as planned.  We must now watch what Allah will do in the other countries.”

 

 

XXI

 

                “All rise.  The Federal District Court of Washington D.C. is now in session.  All who have cause to plea, draw near and give attention, and you shall be heard.  God save these United States, and this honorable court.”

The courtroom was filled with reporters who had won their seats in the daily lottery.  A network television crew stood in the back of the courtroom, providing live footage courtesy of C-Span; the judge agreed to permitting one camera in the courtroom to provide pool feed to the networks.  The Honorable Corbin Shepherd took his seat on the bench.

                “You may be seated; Madame Clerk, who appears before this court?”

                “The People of the United States versus John Tolebridge.”

                “Mr. King, it is unusual to begin a trial so quickly.  You have a right to further time to adequately prepare for your defense.”

                “Thank you, your Honor, but we are thoroughly prepared and any delay would adversely affect the citizens of this nation.  A grave injustice has been perpetrated by Mr. Joshua Mitchell, falsely accusing my client.  It is our right to a speedy trial, and that is what we ask.”

                “Mr. Lincoln, you may proceed with your opening comments.”

                “Ladies and gentlemen, you are here to sit in judgment as peers of John Tolebridge.  We will present facts, evidence, and testimony.  It is your job to determine whether or not the facts, evidence, and testimony justify the charges presented.  Mr. King addresses the defendant as Mr. Speaker.  Though the defendant once was the Speaker of the House of Representatives, he no longer is.  Nor does that one time distinction place him above the laws of this nation.

                The defendant committed a culpable violation of the Constitution.  That simply means that he committed a deliberate and willful breach of the Constitution.  The Constitution is the contract that exists between the People of the United States and the Government of the United States.  This contract expressly states what the government, and those delineated agents of the government such as the President, members of Congress, or Justices of the Court, can and cannot do.  By intentionally violating the Constitution, Mr. Tolebridge placed himself above and beyond the realm of the Constitution.  By doing so, it is the government’s contention that Mr. Tolebridge committed Treason, Sedition, and Espionage.

These are serious charges.  According to the Constitution of the United States, treason against the United States shall consist only in levying War against them, or in adhering to their Enemies, giving them Aid and Comfort.  So serious is this act, it carries the death penalty.  Sedition is the incitement of discontent or rebellion against a government.  Espionage is the practice of spying or using spies to obtain information about the plans and activities especially of a foreign government.

Mr. King will contend that none of these charges apply to Mr. Tolebridge.  It is the government’s contention that by intentionally acting in opposition to the Constitution, Mr. Tolebridge declared himself beyond the statutes and citizenry of the United States as an independent entity, thus committing crimes against the United States for the establishment of himself.”

The facts of his culpable violation of the Constitution are beyond dispute.  It is your job to determine whether these actions of the defendant, these violations of the Constitution, meet the burden of the law; whether or not John Tolebridge is guilty of these crimes against the People and Government of the United States.  Thank you.”

Lincoln took his seat and King stood beside Tolebridge at the defense’s table.  Now the defense took their turn presenting their opening statement.

                “Thank you, your Honor.  Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, my client, Mr. John Tolebridge, Speaker of the House of Representatives, has been charged with treason, sedition, espionage, and a number of lesser crimes.  I am shocked that these charges are even being presented by the government.  The founding fathers, in writing the Constitution, were careful in defining treason to avoid abuses against citizens, such as is happening here today.  Such crimes do not apply to the actions of Speaker Tolebridge.  It is your job to listen to the evidence that will be presented and determine the facts.  When you are finished you will see, as I do even now, that these crimes could in no way have been committed by Speaker Tolebridge.  Thank you.”

*     *     *     *     *

Stetson had finished the first round of meetings for the morning and was walking to the East Wing to meet with the Social Secretary, Élan Suzuki.  He had left his cane in the Office and slowly strolled past security.  As he approached Miss Suzuki’s office, he noticed a closed office door " the First Lady’s office door.  Stetson walked over and tried the door knob.  It turned.  He opened the door and stepped in.  The office looked like it did the day Carolyn Hart died, except for the flowers which were withered and dead in the vases. 

*     *     *     *     *

The Senate was busy with its various committee hearings.  In one hearing room, the Foreign Relations Committee was meeting to discuss the Korean action from the weekend and the need for a Secretary of State.  Senator Janice Torrie of South Carolina was recognized by the Chairman of the committee.  She took her seat at the table before the Committee and spoke into the microphone.

                “Mr. Chairman and members of the Foreign Relations Committee, I have the honor of presenting President Mitchells choice to fill the vacancy of Secretary of State.  The President submits before this body for confirmation, Todd Williams.  Mr. Williams, a favorite son from the proud State of South Carolina, was the undersecretary under Eric Cord and is currently the interim Secretary of State.

                The President has, with confidence, relied heavily upon Mr. Williams these past several weeks, as he has set his Administration in order.  Todd Williams has proved his ability to function in a manner honorably on behalf of the United States.  In the short time in his current position, Mr. Williams has had to make vital contact between the United States and critical allies around the world, paving the way for the President to soothe the concerns of many world leaders.  And it was his direct participation in the negotiations with North Korea that helped insure the current peace between our two nations.

                Secretary Williams has the respect of his peers within the State Department, the respect of foreign ministries around the world, and the full confidence of the President.  He has proven himself in a ‘baptism of fire’ with our nation on the brink of war.  It is with great pride and complete confidence that the President of the United States submits the name of Todd Williams for confirmation as Secretary of State of the United States.” 

*     *     *     *     *

Ron Agnew and Rob Harris entered the ICU at Bethesda.  In bed four laid Jeffrey Thoms.  Harris took the lead on the conversation.

                “Jeff, how are you feeling today?”          

                “I feel like an ape sat on my chest.”

                “I have Ron Agnew here.  We are both concerned.  We don’t want to push you, but we need to know who you are protecting.  Jeff, I know you aren’t giving up the contacts name because you are protecting someone.”

Thoms simply looked at Harris, tears forming in his eyes.  “I can’t tell you, Rob.  I can’t.”

                “Jeff, these men don’t care about you.  They tried to kill Gomez.  They would have tried to kill you.  They slaughtered the families of all the assassins and dumped their bodies in a shallow grave in Mexico.  Do you think they will give you preferential treatment?  All they want is for you to die for them and then they will destroy everything connected to you.  You may be willing to take a bullet, but are you willing to waste the lives you are trying to protect?”

Agnew opened a folder and slid it in front of Thoms.  Jeffrey Thoms began to shake his head, tears dropping on the photos in the folder; photos of bodies, whole and in pieces, in an unearthed pit.

                “Rob, they said they would hurt Kris and the baby.  Sis is all I have.”

                “Jeff, we can make them disappear and no one will get to them.  But, we need your complete cooperation.”

                “Agnew, you get them somewhere safe and I will tell you everything.”

                “Jeff, give me their info and I will make it happen.”  Bingo!

*     *     *     *     *

Élan Suzuki had just put the finishing touches on the preliminary draft for the British State Dinner.  Looking at the clock on the wall, she noticed that the President was late.  She stood from her desk, gave a small stretch and walked to the door.  As she stood in the doorway, she noticed an open door; why is the door to FLO open?  She walked over to the First Lady’s office, and stepped through the doorway. 

                “Mr. President!”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Dr. Birch, will you tell the court your occupation, please.”

                “I am the Dean of the School of Law at Cornell University.”

                “Do you know the defendant?”

                “Yes I do.”

                “In what capacity do you know him?”

                “He is an adjunct professor at the school of law.”

                “What law classes does he teach?”

                “He teaches Constitutional law during the summer sessions.”

                “Is he very good?”

                “We view him as one of the most knowledgeable instructors on the Constitution, that’s why we have him.”

                “Dr. Birch, how would you rate yourself on the Constitution?  Would you be qualified to teach the class?”

                “I used to teach the class, Mr. Tolebridge replaced me.  I taught the course for 20 years.”

                “Have you ever been consulted officially regarding interpretation of the Constitution?”

                “Yes.”

                “Please list four persons who sought your knowledge of the subject?”

                “Associate Justice Miller Kemp, Director Torrance Evans of the FBI, Speaker of the House John Tolebridge, and President James Hart.”

                “That is quite an impressive list.  Dr. Birch, would you say that Mr. Tolebridge has a thorough and proper knowledge of the Constitution?”

                “Yes, otherwise Cornell’s School of Law would not permit him to instruct law students.”

                “Dr. Birch, is it proper for the Speaker of the House to take the Presidential Oath of Office, when there is an eligible Vice President existing?”

                “No.”

                “Based on Mr. Tolebridge knowledge of the Constitution, and his experience as an instructor, would Mr. Tolebridge know that such an action would be unlawful?”

                “Yes.”

*     *     *     *     *

As Élan Suzuki entered the First Lady’s Office, she saw the President sitting on the couch rocking back and forth, weeping inconsolably.  Not knowing what to say or do, she simply sat down beside him.  After five minutes or so, the President quieted.  Miss Suzuki walked over to the desk and picked up a box of tissues and returned to the couch.  The President reached over and took several tissues from the box.

                “I shouldn’t be here.”

                “Mr. President, this is the White House.  It’s okay to be here.”

                “You don’t understand.  I should be dead, not Connie.”  Looking around at the office, he waved his hand.  “This would have been her office.”  The President paused for a long moment and then spoke in the voice of a child, “I’m feeling so lost.”

                “Mr. President lets walk next door to my office.”

As the President and Miss Suzuki walked out of the First Ladies Office, security stood beside the office door and closed it behind them.  “Castle Control, FLO checks clear, and I have eyes on Stetson.  Advise Mother, tea time.”  She’s not going to like hearing this.

*     *     *     *     *

                “Okay Jeff, we’re all set.  Call your sister and tell her take the baby and go shopping.  You need her to pick up something for you at Johnston’s at Georgetown Park.  Don’t tell her she is in danger.  She is going to pick up a Caliston watch, and needs to ask for Joey.”

                “They are going to be following her.”

                “And we are going to be following them.  When she goes into Johnston’s, she will be safe.  We are set up the entire route, from the house all the way into the store.  We will take the bad guys down and put your sister and niece into a safe house.  When they get to the house, we will have her call you on a clean phone.  Afterwards, we can talk.”

                “Okay.  Please don’t let anything happen to her.”

                “We won’t.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Mr. Williams, thank you for appearing before the Committee today.  If you are confirmed as Secretary of State, how do you view your responsibilities as our Chief Diplomat?”

                “Senator Burton, I would like to start with a correction to what you just said.  I would not be the Chief Diplomat.  That distinction is held by the President of the United States; Joshua Mitchell is the Chief Diplomat of the United States.  I as Secretary of State am responsible for the operation of the State Department on his behalf.  Ambassadors are chosen by the President and confirmed by Congress.  My basic responsibility would be to oversee their activity and insure their needs are provided for.”

                “So you see the Secretary of State as simply an Administrator?”

                “I see the Secretary of State as the primary representative of the President of the United States.  I administer the State Department.  I insure Ambassadors are fully equipped to function in their capacities.  And in matters extending beyond the level of an Ambassador, the Secretary of State steps in to personally negotiate on behalf of the President.  This is not some glamour job, jet setting around the world for cocktails with world leaders.”

                “Mr. Williams, have you ever acted in the capacity of an Ambassador?”

                “Senator, I have never been appointed as an Ambassador, but have functioned as an Ambassador-at-Large.  In that capacity, I filled in for several weeks while Ambassadors were pending replacement or were unavailable due to medical procedures.  And prior to the current appointment as Interim Secretary, I assisted Secretary Cord with trade negotiations with China, and led the United States delegation during the arms reduction negotiations in Geneva last year, leading to the face to face between Vice President Mitchell and the Russian Vice President in Turkey.  I am very familiar with the strains of representation and negotiation.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Dr. Birch, why does the Constitution restrict the definition of Treason?”

                “The writers of the Constitution wanted to prevent the arbitrary use of Treason, such as it was used in Great Britain at the time.  Anyone who spoke out against the King or was viewed as a threat, real or imaginary, to the King could be tried and executed for Treason.  The founding fathers wanted the nation to be safe to express political thought, even when it was contrary to those in office.”

                “Dr. Birch, is there a difference between the British act of Treason " opposing the King as a possible future threat to the throne, and the actual usurping of the Presidency by an unauthorized person based on the Constitution?

                “Yes, the first deals with a possibility, the second deals with an actuality.”

                “In the United States, what would we call the unlawful seizure of national power and authority?”

                “It would be called Treason and Sedition.”

                “Dr. Birch, it is not an act of war or betrayal to a foreign government.  How can it be declared Treason and Sedition?”

                “Even though the act is not intended to cause war or betrayal, it is such by the very act of unlawfully seizing power.  By intentionally violating the Constitution to obtain the Presidency, Mr. Tolebridge undermined the foundation of our government.  His action, however short lived, called into question the authority of the office.  Who was the Commander-in-Chief directing the military?  To whom did the Secretaries of the Cabinet answer?  And having been the Speaker of the House, those members of Congress whose allegiance he held further undermined the government by compromising Congress.  Though he did not directly conspire with any specific enemy, he conspired indirectly with all our enemies.”

                “So Dr. Birch, you are saying, if I may, the unconstitutional seizure of the Presidency by Mr. Tolebridge left the nation vulnerable to attack by our enemies with no effective means to respond in a civil or military manner.”

                “Yes”

                “But no enemy attacked.”

                “Think of it this way.  You are out of town and an unauthorized person enters your home, which is encircled by thieves who know you are out of town.  This unauthorized person opens the doors and windows of your home.  Everything you own is at risk of theft or damage.  It was the same with Mr. Tolebridge declaring himself President.  Our enemies know our Constitution as well as we.  They knew the actions of Mr. Tolebridge were illegal.  He opened the doors and windows of our nation to our enemies.  Whether or not an enemy availed itself of the opportunity is not the issue.  The issue is, the actions of Mr. Tolebridge provided the opportunities, thus betraying the security and stability of the nation.”

                “Mr. King, your witness.”

*     *     *     *     *

 

The President, now in the Social Secretaries office, sat on the couch with a glass of water and unconsciously rubbed his leg.  Miss Suzuki took a seat on the couch and handed him a file folder.

                “Mr. President, here is the outline for the State Dinner with Great Britain.  I used their last visit as a template.  According to the State Department, we can expect the same persons attending with the addition of Prince Harry.”  Suzuki held her breath for a moment and wished this would be sufficient to distract him for the moment.

Stetson regained his composure and took the file folder.  He carefully read through the outline asking questions and giving approval to the food and music.  Stetson suddenly realized something.  Some of this music is dance music.

                “What’s the matter, Mr. President?”

                “Will there be dancing?”

                “Yes sir, there will.  You will have a dance with Mrs. Wilson and one with the Duchess of Cambridge.  You will have several additional dances as the dignitaries dance.” 

                “I’ve only ever danced with Constance, never with anyone else.  When I’m not dancing with one of the wives, who will I be dancing with?”

This brought up a problem no one thought about.  Presidents are married and their wives act as the official hostess during state visits.  Or their adult daughters do.  But now there is no First Lady.  We have Mitchell all alone.

                “Sir, we have no White House hostess to entertain the wives.  As for the State Dinner, if you wish, I can have someone from the Office of Protocol at the State Department dine and dance with you.  I will arrange for someone to handle the other functions.”

                “Are you going to be at the dinner?”

                “Yes sir, it is part of my duties.  President Hart insisted that if he had to be there and suffer through it, I had to endure it as well as punishment for planning the event.”

That brought a small smile to Stetson.  Jim would definitely look at it that way.  Then a pensive expression crept across his face.

                “Miss Suzuki, um, Élan, next door.”  The President was stumbling over his words.  “You simply sat on the couch with me.  You didn’t say anything.  Why?”

                “At first I didn’t know what to say or do, then something came to mind, ‘laugh with those that laugh, weep with those who weep, mourn with those who mourn.  You don’t need a pep squad telling you how you should be.  I felt you needed someone to just sit with you; it’s terrible to be alone.”

                “Thank you.  I don’t know if I can handle one more person telling me how sorry they are, or telling me to man up.  I’ve had a couple of those.”  The President looked down at the outline, scanning the list of music.  “Is it possible to listen to one of these songs?”

                “Certainly, which song would you like to hear?”

The President pointed to one on the list.  “This one.”

                “Oborozukiyo Inori?  That is a beautiful Japanese waltz.  I will play it for you.”

Suzuki stood and walked to her desk.  A moment later she was clicking ‘play’ on her computer.  As the song began, the President rose and walked to the desk.

                “May I have this dance?”  The President voice cracked like a teenagers as he stood with his hand out and a shy expression on his face.

Though Élan was surprised by the invitation, she took his hand and the two began to dance.  The President closed his eyes and moved with a pained look etched across his face.  His movements were stiff and uncertain, but improved as he continued.  The song ended and Mitchell stepped back from Suzuki.  Tears were running down his face once more.

                “Thank you, Élan.”

                “You’re welcome, Mr. President.  You’re an excellent dancer.”

                “Thank you.  Will you do me the honor of accompanying me to the State Dinner?  And would you consider adding White House Hostess to your duties?”

                “I will consider it, but why me?

                “I watched Jim and Carolyn at the dinners and I listened to the two of them talk about her outings with the wives.  Jim was the hammer, Carolyn was the rose.  She tempered him.  It was her gentleness wrapped in wisdom that not only soothed the egos of the ladies but kept the men in line as well.  I need that gentleness and wisdom, and you showed it next door.”

The President felt awkward speaking to her as he did.  Though it was professional, it felt intimate.  Handing her back the outline, “It looks good.  Go ahead and fill it in.  I will await your answer regarding dinner and your duties.”

Stetson gave a gentle smile, turned and headed back to the West Wing.

*     *     *     *     *

Mr. King stepped forward to question Birch.  “Dr. Birch, do you recall the assassination attempt of President Ronald Reagan?”

                “Yes.”

                “President Reagan was unable to act in the capacity of President due to his condition.  While he was in the hospital, was Vice President George Bush in a position that could be considered that of a caretaker of the office?”

                “Caretaker of the office?”

                “Yes.”

                “I suppose that term can be used.  In accordance with the Constitution, the authority of the office falls to the Vice President in the absence of the President, until the President is able to resume his position.”

                “And if the Vice President was unable to assume the authority of the office, then what?”

                “That responsibility falls to the Speaker of the House.”

                “So if the President is dead and the Vice President is in the hospital, the Speaker of the House is in charge?”

                “Yes.”

                “So, to act as caretaker of the Presidency, you simply must be the next in line in the order of succession?”

                “I suppose you can put it that way.”

                “No more questions.”

John Lincoln stood.

                “Dr. Birch, what is your understanding of ‘acting as a caretaker’?”

                “I imagine Mr. King meant covering the responsibilities of the office, while the officeholder is unavailable.”

                “Is it necessary for the ‘caretaker’ to take the oath of office to care for the office in the absence of the President?”

                “No.”

                “Why is that?”

                “According to the Constitution, the authority of the office falls to the Vice President in the absence of the President, until the President is able to resume his position.”

                “In other words, it is listed in the job description.”

                “Yes.”

                “So, it is not necessary to take the oath of office to act as ‘caretaker’?”

                “No.”

                “Dr. Birch, if it is not necessary to take the oath of office to act as caretaker of the office, then what is the purpose of taking the oath of office?”

                “The oath of office is to seat the President with full authority to act as President.”

                “So to be clear, according to the Constitution, Mr. Tolebridge, as Speaker of the House was authorized to act as caretaker until the President or Vice President was capable of reassuming the role.  And it isn’t until the position is vacated that the oath of office is necessary.  Is this correct?”

                “Yes.”

                “According to the Constitution, was Mr. Tolebridge authorized to take the oath of office of President?

                “No, he wasn’t”

                “So he was only in the position of caretaker until it was determined whether the Vice President was to accept the Office of the Presidency, and then did so?”

                “That is correct.”

                “Dr. Birch, does acting as caretaker of the office empower the caretaker with the full authority of the office?”

                “No.  The caretaker may act upon any immediate matters facing the office, but may not institute policy changes or make appointments.  His or her actions are only in dealing with the emergency at hand.”

                “Dr. Birch, based on your personal knowledge of John Tolebridge as a nationally esteemed professor of constitutional law, should he have known this?

                “Yes.”

*     *     *     *     *

Anytime an agent believes he or she has information critical for the care of the President by the Service, they are to advise the Special Agent-in-Charge.  The heads up that such information exists is ‘tea time with Mother’.  Cassandra Roberts was sitting in her office drinking a cream soda rather than tea as the agent rapped on the door and entered.

                “Jack, what do you have?”

                “I responded to the open door at FLO.  Stetson was inside.  He was on the couch rocking and crying.  Suzuki was sitting next to him.  After 5 or 10 minutes, he calmed down and they talked for a couple minutes.

                “Did you hear what they were saying?”

                “Emotionally, he’s in pain.  He was saying he should be dead.  I don’t think he is handling surviving.”

                “Jack you know the question I have to ask.  Be honest.  Are we looking at a suicide risk?

                “Cass, I don’t know.  You saw him his first day here.  He had people running scared.  You saw him dealing with the Koreans.  He was totally in command.  I don’t think he is at risk if he can simply sit down with someone and talk.  We are dealing with someone who was and still is madly in love, and the love of his life was torn out of his life.  You have to move on, and you can’t unless you deal with the loss.  He needs to deal with it.  In my opinion, he is a broken man but not beyond repair.  But he needs to talk to someone, soon.

                “Okay, thanks for the heads up.”

Roberts picked up her phone and dialed the director.

*     *     *     *     *

In the Oval Office, behind closed doors, the most powerful man in the world sat at his desk and cried.  After a few minutes, he lifted his phone and pressed a button.

                “Mary, get me an outside line.”  Mitchell pulled his wallet out and fished out a paper with a number written down.  After he dialed he turned and stared out the glass at the South Lawn.

                “Bethany Community Church.”

                “I would like to speak with Dr. Snow.”

                “I will see if he is available, who may I say is calling?”

                “Just someone in pain.”

                “One moment, Sir.”

The receptionist place the caller on hold and pressed the button for the Senior Pastor’s Office.

                “Yes Monica?”

                “Dr. Snow, there is a caller asking for you by name.”

                “Who is it?”

                “He didn’t say, just that he was someone in pain.  The voice sounds very familiar.”  Jacob Snow stared at the papers that covered his desk.  “Sir, if you want, I can refer the caller to Keith.”

                “No.  He asked for me by name, I better take the call.  Put him through.”  After a moment the caller was connected with Rev. Snow.  “Hello?”

                “Jake.  Help.”

                “Josh?”

 

 

XXII

 

 

Kris Long put Courtney in the car and carefully checked all the straps to make sure she was securely in her car seat.  She walked around to the driver’s side and got in, putting the key in the ignition and started her red Volvo.  After checking that it was safe, she backed out of the driveway and headed down Kingsley Av.

 

                “Subject rolling, red Volvo eastbound Kingsley.  No target following.  Subject turning north on Adams.  Black panel van just pulled out on Adams and is following.

 

                “Unit 2 picking up the van on Adams, Unit 1 continue on Kingsley and pick us up on Jefferson.”

 

Long continued her outing never noticing the van or ballet of FBI vehicles switching tails.  As she pulled into the parking structure at the Shops at Georgetown Park, the black van stopped and the passenger exited and made for the main doors.  The van then entered the parking structure and soon found the Volvo.  As mom lifted her little girl out, the van pulled into a nearby space and the driver exited and slowly began walking towards the nearest entrance.

 

                “Frank 1 has target 1 at the food court, lower level; blue polo shirt, jeans, Red Sox baseball cap.”

 

                “Frank 4 has target 2, upper level; olive green button down, gray slacks, salt and pepper hair and beard.  Target 2 loitering just inside the entrance near Henry’s”

 

Kris and Courtney walked into the mall, passing the gentleman in the green shirt.  The gentleman stood facing the display window of Henrys Department Store.  He saw the reflection of mother and child pass behind him.

 

                “Frank 3 has subject and target 2 approaching.  Subject is entering store.”

 

As Kris and Courtney entered the store, a woman with 2 large boxes started out the door.  The woman turned to her left, right into an older gentleman.  The collision resulted in both persons falling and two boxes of foam popcorn spilled out.  As the man tried to stand another shopper knocked him down again, this time causing a gun to fall from the man’s waistband onto the ground.  As the second shopper helped the man up the first shopper scooped the gun into the box along with the packing material.

 

Meanwhile, the Red Sox fan was riding the escalator up to the second level.  As he was stepping off the escalator, he stumbled and fell.  Actually the handle of another shopper’s umbrella hooked his ankle causing him to lose his balance.  You really should hold on to those railings for your safety.  The poor fellow had a bloody nose from the fall.

 

Inside the store, while people were falling down outside, Kris Long was talking to ‘Joey’ concerning a watch.

 

                “Yes ma’am, we have that watch in the office, if you will step this way.”

 

Kris and Courtney Long followed Joey into the back.  Three federal agents immediately stepped forward identifying themselves.

 

                “Ma’am, you and your daughter’s lives are in danger.  You must follow us.  Once you are safe, you can call your brother and he can explain.”

 

Kris didn’t know what to do.  “What about my husband?”

 

“Ma’am, he is safe and will meet you at the safe house.  We don’t have time to talk here; we have to move, now.”

 

The agents led her out the back door of the store into the employee service corridor, then through another door into the large, adjacent department store.  They moved quickly to the back of the store to the loading dock.  Within moments, they were inside the cargo box of a delivery truck. 

 

Back inside the mall, the Sox fan was ushered to the mall office regarding “legal paperwork” associated with his injury.  As he entered the office he was quickly cuffed and placed in a chair.  A moment later, his friend was escorted into the office and cuffed as well.  Within an hour both men were at the field office being held on weapons charges.

 

Outside Falls Church, inside the safe house, Kris Long was handed an unregistered cell phone.  On the other end Jeff Thoms was eagerly awaiting the sound of his sister’s voice.

 

                “Jeff, what’s going on?  Are you alright?”

 

                “I’m fine.  I’m still in the hospital recovering.”

 

                “Why were Courtney and I in the back of a delivery truck for over an hour?  I’m somewhere; James is here, but why?”

 

                “I have knowledge concerning the assassination, and the bad guys are trying to keep me quiet.”  It was the truth; he just didn’t mention that he was one of the bad guys.  “You’ll just have to hang tight for a bit until this plays out.  Do what the agents say, they’re there to protect you.”

 

                “Jeff, please be safe.”

 

                “I will, Sis.”  Thoms clicked the call off.  “Okay, we can talk now.”

 

*     *     *     *     *

                “Miss Suzuki, do you have a moment?”

 

Élan Suzuki was sitting in her office reviewing lists of previous guests to State Dinners.  She looked up and tried to place the woman in the doorway.  She had the blue flag lapel pin similar to the one the President wears, so Élan knew she had unlimited access to the White House.

 

                “Yes, can I help you?”

 

                “I’m Agent Roberts with the Secret Service protection detail.  I understand you were with the President earlier.”

 

                “Yes, we were discussing the upcoming State Dinner.”  Élan was trying to read this woman.  Was it a crime to dance with the President?

 

                “You were discussing the dinner plans in the First Lady’s Office?”

 

                “No, we discussed them here in my office.”

 

                “Miss Suzuki, it’s our job " our responsibility to oversee the protection of the President.  That goes beyond his physical safety.  We like President Mitchell and want to keep him around as long as possible.  It was brought to my attention that something happened in the office next door.  If he needs help or protection we need to see that he gets it.”

 

                “I was expecting the President, and noticed he was late.  I thought he was just running late.  I was checking the hallway for him when I noticed the door open to the First Lady’s office next door.  I walked over to see what was happening inside.  I found the President sitting on the couch weeping.”

 

                “What did you do?”

 

                “I just sat with him.  After a couple of minutes, he stopped weeping.”

 

                “What did he say?”

 

                “He said he shouldn’t be here and that the office would have been his wife’s.  He really misses her.  And he is having problems with the fact that he survived and she didn’t.  He didn’t say that but I can tell.  Someone needs to talk to him.  He is strong; you can tell that, with what he has handled and been through so far.  If he were 100%, he would probably be the most feared man in the world.”

 

                “Did he say or do anything more while in the First Lady’s Office?”

 

                “No, after a couple more moments, I coaxed him into my office.  I thought it best he not be next door too long.”

 

                “Miss Suzuki, you seem to have some insight into the man.  What more can you tell me?”

 

                “Just that he is a strong man.  A normal man would have been destroyed by all that has happened.  Consider the fact that he lost his wife, his closest friends were murdered, he was attacked and could have died, he had to deal with the treachery of the Speaker, North Korea trying to invade South Korea; all of it within three weeks.  Either he is strong or not human.”

 

Cass was amazed by the insight of Suzuki.  All Roberts could see was his weaknesses from the injuries.  How could she have miss seeing his strengths?  “Is there anything else?” 

 

                “His compassion; there is a gentle side to him.  He talks tough, acts tough; he is like justice embodied.  Yet there is a side to him that weeps.  He asked me to be the White House hostess.  When I asked why he chose me, he said it was because of my gentleness.  He understands gentle; what it means, and why it’s necessary.  When we worked through the Hart’s funeral, he was thoughtful of many aspects that could have been easily overlooked and was considerate " gentle.”

 

                “Yes that is a side that I am still not used to.  I have seen the man apologize several times.  Once to the Marines; that earned him a special status with them.”  Roberts didn’t mention the apology she received. 

 

                “Agent Roberts, we are dealing with a smart man.  He has had to make some fast decisions, and he hasn’t made a wrong step yet.  And all these things coming from someone physically and emotionally wounded.”

 

                “Miss Suzuki, do we have a reason to be concerned about him, emotionally?”

 

                “He is healing faster physically than emotionally; but he is healing.  We must not forget that he is a strong man.  He just needs someone to listen and be a friend.”

 

                “Thank you, Miss Suzuki.  Your insights have been helpful.”

 

*     *     *     *     *

Thoms sat propped up in his bed.

 

                “Jeff, you are telling us a lot.  If you need to rest, tell us.”

 

                “I am tired, but I’m so relieved Kris and Courtney are alright.”

 

                “We appreciate all that you are telling us.”  Ron Agnew was getting writer’s cramp from all the notes he was taking.  “So, James recruited you.”

 

                “He said if I didn’t help him out he would tell everyone about my drinking binge a couple years ago.  I was so hung over, I had to trade shifts with someone.  The person I traded with was shot and almost died.  He ended up retiring behind the injuries.  I immediately got help and have been dry ever since.  I knew that if news got out about my drinking, no one would want to work with me even though I’m dry and I would have lost the detail assignment.”

 

                “When did you learn of your role in the assassination?”

 

                “Several days later we met with Cassis.  That was when I was told about the assassination.  I was going to play along and pass the information on, and then I found out that Kris and the baby were under surveillance.  They had audio and video of them: they even played live feed of them sitting in the car, driving home from the store.  There was no way to tip her off.  And since James was dirty, I felt I couldn’t trust anyone on the detail.  I just hoped to make it through and see them safe.”

 

                “Jeff, get some sleep.  Tomorrow we are going to go over this again as a disposition.  We will get it on video.”

 

                “Rob, Mr. Agnew, do you have any idea what it’s like to live with a smudged soul.  No matter how hard you scrub, it never goes away.  Most people don’t notice it, but it’s there.  And if you hold a light just right it grows bigger than life.  It would have been better if I hadn’t have survived.”

 

                “Get some rest Jeff.”

 

*     *     *     *     *

In the Washington field office, two Iranian men sat handcuffed.  One had his nose bandaged.  In their wallets, each bore an Islamic Defense Force ID. 

                “Mr. Sayad, what is your rank in the Islamic Defense Force?”

                “I am a Lieutenant.”

                “Who is your commanding officer?”

                “I am assigned to Central Operations, IDF Command.  My commanding officer is Colonel Abib Hadad.”

                “Why are you in Washington D.C.?”

                “I am on vacation.”

                “That’s not what Lieutenant Caleb said.”

                “What did he say?”

                “You were on assignment, reporting to Colonel Cassis.  Do you want to tell me now, or do you want to wait until after we move you to Cuba.”

                “Cuba?”

                “Yes, Guantanamo Bay.  That is where we house our enemy combatants.”

                “I’m not an enemy combatant.”

                “Then, why were you following the family of a Secret Service agent assigned to the Presidential Protection detail?”

                “I want representation from the Iranian embassy.”

                “Caleb didn’t want representation.  He told us his side of the story.  He told us enough to keep you in Cuba for the next 50 years.”

*     *     *     *     *

Stetson sat on the couch in the office.  Everyone now expected to see him with his right leg up.  He had his laptop open, deep in thought, occasionally typing.  Hearing knocking, he looked up to see Agent Roberts standing in the doorway.

 

                “Cass, come in.”  Stetson rose to greet her.  Roberts felt uncomfortable with the propriety.  She was used to just walking in to a room.  This guy stands when a woman enters.  “What can I do for you?”

 

                “Sir, I understand you had a hard day today.”

 

                “I have a hard day every day, Cass.”

 

                “I understand you had an especially hard day today, in the East Wing.”

 

Stetson took a deep breath and then took a long look at the Special Agent-in-Charge of his protection detail.

 

                “Yes I did.”

 

                “Sir, you need to talk to someone.  Everybody here respects you, loves you.  We don’t want to lose you, Sir.  You have no idea how hard it is to find a President you really wouldn’t mind taking a bullet for.”  Roberts smiled and got a smile in return.

 

                “I know Cass.  I’ve had several similar conversations with others.  I put a call in to someone " a pastor.  I made an appointment to talk with him here.  If it works out and I decide to take this beyond a couple visits, we’ll arrange for clearance for him.  I just don’t want you scaring him off.”

 

                “Yes Sir and I promise not to scare him off.”

 

                “Cass, I’m surprised you don’t have this place wired for sound.  You would have already known that I called someone.”

 

                “Well Sir, we do; and we were aware that you placed the call.  We just didn’t know why.”

 

                “You monitor my actions and conversations?”

 

Oh no, his dark side.  “Mr. President, we have live feed on the office and all the outgoing calls on the Office phone are logged.  We don’t listen in unless we see something wrong.”

 

                “How long has this live feed existed?”

 

                “For a couple years now, since a movie showed the White House being taken over and blown up.  President Hart ordered it by executive order.”

 

                “Okay, that’s good to know.”  I must remember not to put on too much of a show for them.  The President walked Roberts to the door and then turned to return to the couch.  Mitchell stopped.  “Cass!”

 

Roberts stopped and turned immediately. 

 

                “Is the feed kept; do you store it?”

 

                “Yes Sir.  We keep the video recordings for a year unless they are flagged.”

 

                “Can you pull the archive up here or do I need to go to your office to see it?”

 

                “I can pull it up on your computer, Sir.”

 

                “Show me please, I want to check something.”

 

*     *     *     *     *

                “Lieutenant Caleb, Sayad told us about your assignment to Colonel Cassis.  What you have to say will either confirm his story or will send you both to Guantanamo Bay.  Who told you to follow the woman and the child?”

 

                “Colonel Cassis.”

 

                “How long have you been in the United States?”

 

                “One month.”

 

                “Who sent you to Colonel Cassis?

 

                “General Al-Karzah ordered us to come to the United States and to report to Colonel Cassis.”

 

                “Did the General know what the mission was?”

 

                “I believe so.  He told us that Cassis would explain the operation when we arrived.”

 

*     *     *     *     *

2 o’clock Pacific Standard Time, F.B.I. and D.E.A. agents, along with officers of the Mexican Ministerial Federal Police exited from several trucks parked near sugar cane fields just outside Los Mochis, Mexico.  The agents and officers formed four assault teams and began making their way through the sugar cane, towards a mill half a mile away.

*     *     *     *     *

Agnew just got off the phone.  Judges have no qualms granting warrants, especially when you have the information like Thoms is giving.  Agnew now had phone records.  And Cassis now had a tail.  Not only was his line being tapped, but he has gained the full attention of the Bureau. 

 

Agnew’s cell buzzed in his shirt pocket.

 

                “Agnew.”

 

                “Ron, this is Perkins.  We got one of the guys from the hospital to talk.”

 

                “How did you succeed?”

 

                “I set a pill down on the table and asked him if he knew what it was?  It was a sugar pill that looked like the cyanide pill that we found in his pocket.  The attorney asked what the pill was, and before I could answer the guy picked it up and immediately swallowed it.  You should have looked at his face when, several minutes later, he was still sitting there.  I asked the suspect what he thought the pill was and he said it was cyanide.  I told him it wasn’t and the attorney immediately assumed it was sodium pentothal.”

 

                “What?”

 

                “I gave him a sugar pill and they thought it was sodium pentothal.”

 

                “Did you say it was sodium pentothal?”

 

                “Not at all; I actually told them that it was not any kind of truth serum, but they believed it was and the suspect started blurting everything he knew.  All I could do was simply smile at the stupidity of the crook swallowing a pill, and wrote down everything the guy said as fast as I could.”

 

                “Now we know why you’re paid the big bucks.”  Agnew shook his head in disbelief, and Perkins could hear his grin over the phone.

 

                “He gave me a name, ‘Ibriham Cassis’.  Cassis reports directly to someone called ‘the Sheikh’.  He didn’t say who the Sheikh was, but they are scared of him.”

 

                “Really?  Okay, did you get the interview on video?”

 

                “Yes.  I still can’t get over the guy spilling the beans so easily.  Maybe the info is bogus; but the guy was legitimately acting like he couldn’t lie if he wanted to.”

 

                “No one said they were bright, Mike.  Doesn’t take much to pull a trigger and then swallow a pill.  Did you get anything else from him?”

 

                “They flew in from Iraq last week.  They were given an address, and told they would meet Colonel Cassis there.  They would be given their orders by him.”

 

                “Colonel Cassis?  Are we dealing with military?”

 

                “I’m not sure.  Cassis is Iraqi, our two friends are Syrian.  What would Syrian soldiers be doing following the orders of an Iranian Colonel?  The guy spilled a lot, but wouldn’t clarify on that point.”

 

                “Good job, Mike.  Write it up and get it to me.”

 

*     *     *     *     *

The teams finally reached the mill, and slowly made their way to their designated positions.  A short distance from the mill a cloud of dust could be seen and several minutes later two trucks pulled up to the main entrance to the mill.  A large group of men loitered around the vehicles and slowly made their way inside. 

When the last of the men entered, the teams made their approach.  Leaving a number of federales outside as a containment force, the remaining officers and agents made a coordinated entry through the three entrances.  Though the group was caught off guard, several still attempted to resist and escape.  Four men drew handguns and were killed before they could raise their arms.  Three men dove through windows only to be scooped up by the containment force.

Once the men were in custody, government helicopters flew in and the prisoners and teams were boarded. 30 minutes later the helicopters touched down at what appeared to be a warehouse.  Inside was a series of office cubicles, each containing a large cage.  The arrestees were led into the building, each being placed into their own cage.

*     *     *     *     *

The President was in the Office late when Agent Roberts escorted John Lincoln through the door.

 

                “Mr. Lincoln, good to meet you.”

 

                “Mr. President, it is a privilege, though I’m not sure why I’m here?”

 

                “Sir, I have something for you.  I discovered it earlier today and believe you need it.  Agent Roberts, will you show our guest.”

 

The three stepped to the computer on the desk.  Roberts clicked several times on the screen desktop, and then stepped aside.  The President offered his seat to Lincoln, who accepted and then focused on the screen as a video began playing.  The video, time stamped in the corner, showed Tolebridge and company entering the Oval Office; the audio playing back conversations amongst the group.

 

                “Mr. President, is this legitimate?”

 

                “Yes it is.  I learned of the surveillance system today.  It has been active for several years.”

 

Lincoln continued the video.  Occasionally, he paused the footage to ask a question, and then would continue the recording.  After three hours, Lincoln sat back and smiled.

 

                “Mr. President, may I have a copy of this?”

 

                “Agent Roberts has it on disk for you.  Is this helpful for your case?”

 

Lincoln smiled.  “I will have to go over this very carefully, but this just sunk the defense’s contention.  They are contending that Tolebridge was acting solely as a caretaker of the office in your absence.  A caretaker doesn’t talk about Cabinet appointments or order the removal of the President of the United States from the Oval Office.  Yes this is very helpful.  Unfortunately, we only have a short time to work with it before it has to be discoverable to the defense.”

 

                “How is the trial going, Mr. Lincoln?”

 

                “It’s going better than I had expected.  At first I thought their strategy of a speedy trial was pretty smart of them, but they have underestimated the case we have prepared.  They had trouble refuting our witness, and he was the one we had questions about.  Now we have this and this is going to hurt them badly.”

 

*     *     *     *     *

The Federal Police moved systematically from cubicle to cubicle.  First an officer and a technician entered and processed the prisoner, fingerprinting and photographing, completing an identification report.  Fifteen minutes later another officer and a F.B.I. agent enter with an interpreter and began the interrogation. 

                “Aram Habibo?”

                “Yes?”

                “Is this your handgun?”

                “No.”

                “Your fingerprints are on it and it was found in your waistband.”

                “Then it must be mine.”

                “So, you claim this gun is yours.”

                “If my fingerprints are on it and you found it in my waistband, then it must be mine.”

                “We test fired it and the bullet matched those which killed four men, and three women at a location outside of Chihuahua.”

                “I’m prepared to die.  They were infidels and I followed my orders.  I’m prepared to die in obedience to Allah.”

                “Allah spoke to you and said to come to Mexico and kill infidels?”

                “No, I was sent by the Sheikh and acted in obedience to Allah’s command to him.”

                “Who is the Sheikh?”

                “I don’t know.  His aide, Colonel Cassis gave us our assignments.”

                “What military is Colonel Cassis part of?”

                “The Islamic Defense Force, we are the Sword of Allah.”

                “You are a member of the Islamic Defense Force?”

                “Yes.” 

 

XXIII

 

Wednesday morning was overcast.  John Lincoln sat at the prosecutions table, open books and files scattered before him; he wasn’t really looking at any of the material in front of him.  The bailiff stepped before the judge’s bench and called the court to order.  Lincoln methodically closed and stacked the books and straightened the folders. 

The Judge took his seat and asked Lincoln if he was prepared to continue.

 

                “Your Honor, may I approach the bench?”

 

                “You may approach the bench.”

 

Lincoln and King both stepped to the far side of the bench, and the Judge stepped down, away from the microphone.  The place where the three met was concealed from the view of the jury.

 

                “Your Honor, some evidence was made available last night and I’m making full disclosure to the court and the defense.”

 

                “Mr. Lincoln you called me off the bench to disclose evidence to the defense?”

 

                “Yes sir.  This isn’t some papers or new witnesses, your Honor.  This is a video recording of the Oval Office, the evening of the assassination.”

 

                “Lincoln, how long have you had this?  Your Honor, I wish sanctions to be brought against Lincoln for withholding this evidence.”

 

                “Mr. Lincoln, how did you obtain this evidence?”

 

                “I was called by the White House.  The President showed me the video and provided two copies, one for the prosecution and one for the defense.  I am also planning to call the Secret Service to testify concerning the recording system and the video.  If the defense would like, and the court is willing, the court could take a recess and we can move to the Judge’s chambers to review the video and contact the White House to verify my statements.”

 

Without even consulting the defense, the Judge immediately called a recess and ordered both attorneys into chambers.

 

*     *     *     *     *

                “Jake, I’m glad you could make time to meet with me.”

 

                “My pleasure, Joshua, or is it Mr. President?”

 

                “I’m still the same man, Jake, or is it Reverend Snow?”

 

Jacob Snow realized that Joshua Mitchell was the same man he was as a Congressman.  “Touché.  So Joshua, this is the seat of power.”

 

                “No, Jake.  This is the seat of service.”

 

Mitchell smiled and thanked the aide that wheeled a breakfast cart into the Office.  As the aide left, Roberts smiled to the President and closed the Oval Offices doors.  The two men each filled a coffee cup and took a slice of quiche.

 

Snow took a seat on the couch, sipped his coffee and patiently waited for his parishioner to speak.

 

                “Jake, as I told you on the phone, I’m falling apart.  I wept myself to sleep again last night.  Several times I’ve found myself in tears in here.  Yesterday, I stepped into an empty office and broke down.  Several people found me.”

 

                “Joshua, you lost your wife of many years.  She didn’t die of cancer, or some other catastrophic disease; had she done so, you would have had some period of time to prepare.  Constance was taken from you in a moment, without warning.  It’s the difference between a scheduled surgery to remove a limb and the limb being severed in a car crash.  In the crash, you suddenly experience pain and shock, with a massive loss of blood.  It is the same with Constance being murdered.”

 

                “There is more to it than just that, Jacob.  That bullet was intended for me.  I’m the one who should have been killed.”

 

                “It’s easy to think that …”

 

                “No, Jake.  T h a t  b u l l e t  w a s  i n t e n d e d  f o r  m e; a fact not publicly known yet.  It is a nightmare that isn’t going away.”

 

                “You mean someone was specifically aiming at you, but somehow that bullet struck Constance.”

 

                “As the shooter was about to fire, he was hit by a round causing him to flinch just enough to fire his round at Constance instead of me.  Constance shouldn’t be dead.”  Joshua broke down into tears once more.  “She shouldn’t be dead.”

 

Snow quietly sat as his parishioner wept. 

 

                “I don’t understand Jake.  The pain is so intense.  I am the only survivor; my wounds weren’t serious enough to even keep me in the hospital.  Constance is dead.  And God adds the weight of the world to my shoulders.  Why me?  If one of us had to die, why did it have to be Constance?”

 

                “Excellent questions and God has the answers.  But I can only guess, Joshua.  Perhaps Constance didn’t have the strength to survive without you.  She loved you so very much.  She would be experiencing the very pain you are experiencing right now.  I know you would have gladly taken that bullet for her so she could have lived, correct?”

 

Joshua nodded his head in agreement.

 

                “I don’t know if she could have handled the pain you are living with right now.  You were willing to take the bullet and die for her; are you willing to take that pain for her, and live?  It will not be easy.  You will have a lot more days like today: but do you have the willingness to live and handle the pain for her?  It’s a lot easier to die for someone than to live for them.”

 

Joshua Mitchell sat in the easy chair, unconsciously rubbing his right leg.  He loved Connie so much, missed her so much.  He would have gladly died in her place: to live for her? 

 

                “As for your other question, the ‘why’, I’m smart enough to know the difference between a Republican and a Democrat.  Anything more than that, and forget it.  Again I can only guess.  I didn’t know much about President Hart, other than he was a good man.  Did he have the strength to make the decisions you have faced or will face?  I don’t know.  What I do know is that God establishes the rulers of the nations.  He sets them up and He brings them down.”

 

                “But why did He pick me?  I never wanted this job.  What does he have in mind?”

 

                “Josh, do you really want to know what God has waiting for you down the road?  There are days when I have a lot of trouble trusting God to get me through the day; I would be afraid to know the tests and challenges awaiting me tomorrow.  All you really need to know is that He chose you and is with you right now, and he expects you to serve Him; nothing more, nothing less. 

 

A small smile came to Joshua’s face as he slowly shook his head.

 

                “What’s going through that head of yours, Josh?”  Jacob Snow knew Mitchell well enough to recognize when his wit was at work.

               

                “I was just thinking about the Israeli who met a friend for coffee.  They were talking about all Israel was facing and had faced over the years.  The friend made the comment that Israel was God’s chosen people, to which the Israeli responded, ‘I wish God had chosen another people’.”

 

                “You’ll do just fine, Josh.”

 

*     *     *     *     *

Mike Perkins was sitting in Ron Agnew’s office.

                “So this was faxed early this morning?”

                “Yes.  I have never heard of cooperation to this extent from the Federal Police.  Either they are afraid we will hold them responsible or they want something really big in return.”

                “Either way, this, combined with what we have from the two from the hospital, is more than enough to put a needle in his arm.  We just need him to finger who the Sheikh is.”

                “Shall we pay our visit to Mr. Cassis?”

                “I think it’s time.”

*     *     *     *     *

The Judge sat in his chambers slowly shaking his head.  Several times both he and King stopped and replayed portions of the video.

 

                “Mr. Lincoln before I accept this video into evidence, since you will no doubt introduce it as such, I want an independent, court appointed expert to examine the authenticity of the video.  I will give you a list of experts and you and Mr. King will agree on one.  Mr. King, do you have any objections to this?”

 

                “I would rather have my own expert.”

 

                “I’m sure you would, and I will not deny you that right.  But the court wishes an independent expert before accepting this video into evidence.  I know this is unusual, but the United States has never had a man on trial for trying to usurp the Presidency, and it is certain someone will push this case to the Supreme Court.”

 

                “I have no objection to the Courts’ expert as long as the testimony, if any, is neutral.”

 

                “The court simply wishes to verify the authenticity of the video before accepting it.”

 

Both attorneys nodded in agreement.

               

*     *     *     *     *

11 a.m., federal agents charged a residence off Queens Chapel in the Woodridge area.  The front door frame gave way to the 40 pound battering ram slamming the deadbolt lock.  At the same moment the back door splintered under the pressure of the second battering ram.  Four blocks away, a takedown team conducted a stop of Colonel Ibriham Cassis of the Islamic Defense Force.

 

Cassis was escorted to the FBI field office where he was greeted by Agent Mike Perkins and Special Investigator Ronald Agnew.  After the introductions were made, both gentlemen excused themselves leaving Cassis alone in the interrogation room.

 

Meanwhile, agents were carefully moving through the residence.  Several agents were sweeping the room for bugs, while others were videotaping the rooms and activity.  A desktop computer was seized.  The full contents of the desk were boxed and removed.  The contents of the medicine cabinet were bagged. 

 

At the field office, Cassis’ truck was being thoroughly searched.  The laptop and papers the Colonel had with him were being examined.  Cassis claimed diplomatic immunity stating he was an Iranian official attached to the Islamic Defense Force.  A call to the Iranian embassy by the State Department confirmed his rank but not his official capacity.

 

*     *     *     *     *

On the steps of Capitol Hill, President Joshua Mitchell stood on the step where he had stopped several weeks earlier; a slight tremble could be seen in his frame and an expression of sorrow on his face.  Standing behind him were numerous members of both the House and the Senate.  Directly in front of him was a microphone.  And news cameras were positioned near the bottom of the steps crews.

 

                “Ladies and gentlemen, several feet from where I now stand, President James Hart and his wife, Carolyn, were fatally wounded.  My own wife, Constance, was fatally wounded on this very step.  As I looked at these steps, I can see that the blood stains that were here several weeks ago have since been removed.  Though the stains are gone, the memory of that day will forever live in our memories.  America will not forget.

 

                As a young country, in 1812, the United States was attacked on our own soil.  We fought back and won.  On December 7th, 1941, the United States was attacked.  We fought back and won decisively.  On September 11th, 2000, the United States was attacked.  We fought back and defeated a vague foe.  On January 10th, the United States once more was attacked.  The cowards hiding behind the attack think we do not have the will to respond or that we will simply not remember.  They are mistaken.

 

                Many are asking what is happening.  A Presidential investigation is being conducted by the Attorney General’s office with the assistance of numerous investigative agencies of our government, as well as the full cooperation of the Mexican government.  The Justice Department has been generous with the outgoing information available.  I have instructed the investigators to be careful and proper in their search for the truth, to insure convictions on behalf of the nation.  Trust me; there is no one more eager in seeing arrests and convictions than I.

 

                I ask for your continued patience as the investigation continues.  And I make this promise to the citizens of the United States: I will prosecute those behind this attack to the furthest extent of the law possible.”

 

*     *     *     *     *

Several hours have passed, and Agnew and Perkins carried lunch trays into the interrogation room.

 

                “Colonel Cassis, I apologize for your extended stay with us.  We brought you some lunch.  I hope you don’t mind if we join you, I know most people don’t like eating alone.”  Agnew smiled to himself as Perkins spoke to Cassis.  Mike is so smooth.

 

                “Why am I being detained?  I’m an Iranian official.  I want a representative from my embassy.”

 

                “Colonel, we have some fried chicken, mashed potatoes, biscuits, coffee.  I know you must be hungry.  We cannot allow ourselves to be bad hosts to such as important person as you.”  Perkins set paper plates out, and then began to open containers as Agnew took a piece of chicken out of the box and bit into it.

 

                “I have no intention of eating lunch here.  Why am I being held?”

 

                “Mike, you’re right about the chicken; it is good.  Colonel, do you have anything akin to fried chicken in Iran?  Oh, and you are being held in connection with an investigation into two Syrians who are being held.  They tried to kill someone.”  Agnew was enjoying the chicken and knew he hit a nerve by the look Cassis gave in response.

 

                “I have no idea what you are saying.”

 

                “Sure you do.  And you need to check the quality of the drugs you gave them.  The pills didn’t work.  The food really is good, at least share a meal with us before we start asking you questions about the Sheikh.”

 

*     *     *     *     *

The President was meeting with his personal council for the afternoon ‘wrap up’.  His personal council consisted of COS Mike Rodgers, Director of Communications Pete Phillips, Personal Secretary Mary Johnson, and SAC Cassandra Roberts.  These four acted as Joshua’s friends, confidants, advisors, and protectors, though the furthest informality ever got was ‘Boss’.  The ‘wrap up’ was usually coffee around the coffee table discussing what should have gotten done, what did get done, what didn’t get done, and where to go tomorrow.

 

                “Boss, I have been going over the Cabinet homework assignments.  Justice has some compelling arguments on abortion and I think they need to be addressed.  Looking at State and Energy’s reports on oil and alternative energy options, we could devastate the Middle East to some extent until they develop other industries and export options.  Treasury’s tax reform plan is a must do.  I think we can push it through on Jim Hart’s coattails.”

 

                “Mike, you’re a knucklehead.”  Mary had picked up a pillow and launched it at Rodgers.  “Really, push through on his ‘coattails’?  Must it always be politi-speak?”  Mary was still very tender about her former boss.

 

                “What?  I’m just saying that President Hart had made it known that tax reform was the legislation of the moment and he wanted it done.  I think it would be a wonderful tribute to him if Congress were to get behind it and act in a responsible way on behalf of the nation for once.”

 

Joshua reached over and squeezed Mary’s hand.  “Mike, I understand what you are saying, though your first attempt was a bit awkward.  I think you are absolutely right, it would be a wonderful tribute to Jim.”

 

                “Mr. President, will we be seeing more of your guest in the near future?”  Cass was addressing the issue of Jacob Snow carefully.  Unfortunately, it was cryptic enough to draw everyone in.

 

                “Today, Rev. Jacob Snow came by for a visit.  He is the Pastor of Bethany Community Church, here in Washington.  Constance and I would ‘visit’ there occasionally.”  Everyone knew Rev. Snow was in today.  Pete was surprised he wasn’t asked about it in the shark tank.

 

                “And did you have a ‘good’ visit, Boss?”  Pete asked the question everyone had been waiting for an answer to today.

 

                “Yes.  He gave me some things to consider.  The conversation was challenging at times.  And, yes Cass, he will be visiting more in the near future.  We just don’t know when.”  Everyone took a breath and relaxed.  “Jake did mention the addition to the webpage highlighting my personal philosophies.  He stated that it was refreshing to read my words rather than regurgitation by the media and looks forward to hearing the whys.”

 

                “Boss, the media pool is jumping all over it.  A third of the questions at today’s briefing revolved around your philosophies.  I emphasized the fact that it is crucial to not only know what a person believes, but to understand why a person holds to a belief.  Most of them understood the ‘pot roast’ explanation, and now they want your whys.  They seem especially interested in your statements regarding personal responsibility.  They were asking if you live by your philosophies or if you are a hypocrite.  Right now you are untouchable and they are looking for ammo to use against you.  None of them will come out and say it, but that is what has the tank churning tonight.”

 

                “Boss, the counters are racking up a lot of views on those topics.  People are actually interested in reading what you think.  But we will need to be very careful with the specifics.  You don’t want to get blown up in your own political minefield.”  No sooner had the words come out of Mike’s mouth he put his arms up to protect himself from another pillow.  Instead, everyone was laughing.  “And on the subject of expressing your views, normally the ‘State of the Union’ address is given by now.  Have you any thoughts on when you are going to address the nation, formally?”

 

                “I would like to have the investigation behind me when I speak.  I don’t want the issues clouded by the assassination.  I still feel like the relief pitcher brought in for the save, rather than the starter.  Pete, get me Jim’s last address.  I can use it as a template.  Then you and Mike will sit down with me and I will tell you what I want to say, and you can tell me how I can say it.”

 

Roberts had a quizzical look on her face.  “Mr. President, what is the ‘pot roast’ explanation?”

 

                “It’s a Sunday afternoon and a woman is preparing a pot roast for a family dinner.  Her mother and grandmother are there along with other family members.  The woman takes the roast and cuts two inches off the end of the roast and sets it aside, then places the roast in the roaster and continues with the preparations.  The woman’s young daughter asks why her mother cuts the end off.  The woman responded, ‘That’s what my mother always did.’

 

                The woman asked her mother, ‘Mom, why did you always cut off the end the roast?  The response was, ‘That’s what my mother always did.  The woman’s mother turned to the grandmother and asked the same question.  Grandma’s response was, ‘I had a small roaster.  The roast would never fit.’  No one ever asked why, just what.  And for years, the end of the pot roast was needlessly cut off.”

 

Mike and Pete were chuckling at the story, but Cass didn’t find it so amusing.  “What’s the matter Cass?”

 

                “Mike, I don’t see what’s so funny.”  Cass was speaking softly, somewhat embarrassedly.  “I cut the end of the roasts off.” 

 

 

XXIV

 

Peace was quickly restored in Pakistan.  The government had set a date for elections.  The ballots are intended to simply be a confidence vote, district by district.  If the candidate doesn’t receive 50% plus one vote, the candidate with the highest vote would replace him.  A condition that the parliament agreed to in order to maintain the peace was to place the government in a non-military custodianship.  A council of three clerics replaced the President pending the results of the elections.

 

The military was placed under the authority of the Islamic Defense Force to insure that no coup occurred before the elections could take place.  The media outlets praised the wisdom of Parliament in their decisions and were declaring the success of the current reforms as the work of Allah himself. 

 

Across the border in Afghanistan, the protests were gaining further strength.  A delegation consisting of the Pakistani ambassador, several clerics, and a member of the IDF command staff met with the leadership of the Afghan Parliament and President.  The delegation explained the steps taken in Pakistan to regain the public peace.  Members of the Afghan government could not argue with how quickly the Pakistani people responded to the changes in the government and the actions of the Islamic Defense Force.

 

After much debate, the Afghan Parliament agreed to the deployment of the IDF in order to restore the public peace.  As for holding confirmation elections, the various political factions weren’t sure.  Eventually the various factions gave in and agreed to the elections.  The President finally agreed to step down and allow a cleric council to replace him pending elections.  Over the past week numerous death threats and several fire bombings of his office had occurred. 

 

Before dawn, the Pakistani enhanced Islamic Defense Force was on the ground in the capital city of Kabul.  The IDF was greeted by the citizens of Kabul and troops swept through the government district and moved outward.  And miraculously, peace was restored with their mere presence.  Not a shot was fired, nor was there any conflict between military and protestor.

 

*     *     *     *     *

An interesting sight could now be seen in Roy Grant’s cubical.  The sound of competing news broadcasts and talking head shows was replaced by classic Queen.  Grant leaned back in his chair and had his eyes closed.  Anyone who didn’t know Roy would think he was asleep.  In reality, his mind was spinning in numerous directions, and this was the way he cleared his mind and regained focus.

 

                “Roy, what’s the road block.”  The voice was now too familiar; Grant turned the music down ever so slightly then returned to his recline.

 

                “Alan, this thing has gone from suspicious protests to some global scheme involving the assassination of the President of the United States.  Who is behind it?  Why is it so grand?  What is to be achieved?  We are assuming that the two acts are connected.  We have this from the A/G saying Mohammed bin Al-Karzah is the money man with the assassination.  Now we have an assassin targeted and a Colonel Cassis involved.  State Department sent us this on a raid conducted by the federales with the F.B.I. and the D.E.A.; Colonel Cassis of the I.D.F. is involved.  I see who, but I don’t understand why.”

 

                “You’re sounding overwhelmed.”

 

                “Alan, the only intel we are getting in regards to the Middle East at this point is what the media is saying.  Look how wonderful Pakistan suddenly is.  The military is no threat.  The political rabble is either being replaced by clerics or is on their best behavior pending a confidence vote.  It is so successful that it is being adopted by Afghanistan.  I doubt much will happen with Turkmenistan; despite the initial reports of unrest, the country is reasonably quiet.  I think their transition to freedom from the Soviet Union can account for that.  But Afghanistan is becoming a mini-me of Pakistan.”

 

                “Roy, what did you say?”

 

                “Afghanistan is about to be a repeat of Pakistan.”

 

Hawkins walked over to the next cubical and pulled the desk chair over to Roy’s cubical.  He turned the music up, reclined back and closed his eyes.

 

                “Alan, what are you doing?”

 

                “Focusing; you said something that has set my mind working.  I’m not sure what it was but I know something just clicked there.”

 

                “All I said was that Afghanistan is a repeat of Pakistan.”  Grant opened his eyes.  “What happened in Pakistan?  And why is it important to have it happen in Afghanistan?”

 

Grant sat up and turned the music down.

 

                “Roy, what are you doing, I was focusing.”

 

                “Alan, can I use the white board in your office?”

 

                “Yes, but only as long as there’s music playing.”

 

*     *     *     *     *

On the other side of the planet, Asaf Blum sat in his cubical in Tel Aviv reading through reports from Pakistan and Afghanistan, and reference material concerning Danyal bin Al-Karzah.  Much like Roy Grant’s recent climb in status with Huntington, so Blum was experiencing a similar climb with Guiron.  And now in addition to the changes taking place in the region, the Americans are concerned with the Al-Karzah family.  As Blum thought through the various points, his phone rang.  He looked at the caller ID and recognized the number.

 

                “Blum.”

 

                “Asaf, I have something more for your plate.”

 

                “Yes, Director?”

 

                “The Americans are now adding someone called ‘The Sheikh’ to the matter.  What can you tell me about this person?”

 

                “Director, we know very little about him.  Like everyone else, he calls for our destruction.  He is a proponent of a unified Islam, with himself as Caliph.”

 

                “Why would a Caliph kill the American President?”

 

                “Obviously the American President was a threat in some way.”

               

                “Asaf, your job now is to discover who the Sheikh is and what that threat was.

 

*     *     *     *     *

Inside Alan Hawkins office, the white board had been wiped clean, and Lynyrd Skynyrd was playing.  A column titled ‘Pakistan’ listed everything that had knowingly occurred since the protests begun.  A second column titled ‘Afghanistan’ listed the same.

 

                “Alan, suppose everything that occurred in Pakistan happens in Afghanistan.  How would it benefit Al-Karzah?  We are still working on the presumption that he is the focal point connecting the Middle East discontent with the assassination, correct?”

 

                “Yes, we are still working on that presumption.”

 

                “In Pakistan, the IDF moved in and spread through the country.  The parliament is facing a confidence vote.  Religious clerics are heading the government.  The military is absorbed by the IDF.”

 

Hawkins sat in his chair, rubbing his chin.

 

                “If it repeats in Afghanistan, their parliament is in jeopardy, the religious element rules the land, and the military becomes part of the IDF.  Technically, Pakistan no longer has a military; it’s the IDF.  Take the military away in Afghanistan and fold it into the IDF.  The IDF controls two nations.”

 

                “Who controls the IDF?  Their only opposition is the respective parliaments.  If the people vote in pro Al-Karzah people, they can change their constitutions.  All the protests were around western philosophy contaminating Islamic governments.  Al-Karzah advocates a solidified Islam and a return to traditional Islamic values.  If he succeeds, we are looking at a bloodless coup and maybe the combining of the two nations.”

 

                “It sounds right, but we are assuming Al-Karzah is orchestrating this.  Is he the one behind the act or is someone else running with his ideas.  And why kill Hart?”

 

                “Maybe Hart knew the guy and could have easily targeted him.  Maybe it wasn’t Hart specifically; perhaps they were targeting the Presidency?”

 

                “Why target the Presidency?”

 

                “Why not target it?  The President is the Commander-in-Chief of the military.  Kill the President, you cut off the head of the snake that can bite.  The President is the chief diplomat of the nation; with him dead, no diplomatic intervention while they strike.  And with the assassination, they may think we are distracted looking for bad guys elsewhere.”

 

                “So, in theory, we know what and we know why; we just don’t know who.”  Hawkins reached over and picked up his phone.  It’s time to wake the boss.

 

*     *     *     *     *

In a conference room, the U. S. Senate’s Committee on Foreign Relations is meeting to discuss a plan for peace in the Middle East, and the related funding.

                “Mr. Cohan, you actually believe there is a solution to the issues in the Middle East?”

                “Yes I do.  The nations in the region must focus on their commonalities, not their differences.  They share a common religion.  They share a common wealth.  There is no reason for the nations and kingdoms to exist separately.”

                “Sir, are you advocating the reestablishment of a Middle Eastern empire?  History has shown that such large geopolitical entities are unstable regardless of the commonalities.”

                “Senator, I have spoken with a number of leaders in the region who have assured me that if an acceptable leader were to step forward, they would be willing to pledge themselves to him for the sake of peace in the land.”

                “But what about the leaders who do not wish to participate, Ambassador?  Oh well?  Are there going to be independent islands afloat in this miraculous Islamic kingdom of peace?  And who exactly are we looking at as the leading candidate to lead this kingdom?”

                “There has been repeated mention of someone referred to as the Sheikh.  Everyone has mentioned him as being a man of peace and wisdom.  And that is what the region needs, peace and wisdom.”

                “Ambassador, who is this ‘Sheikh’ that finds it necessary to hide his identity behind a title and do the commonalities preached by this Sheikh, this man of peace and wisdom, include the destruction of Israel?  And can we truly expect this new nation to exist without a hunger for growth; a growth in land and power?  I have never known of an empire or dynasty that didn’t seek expansion.”

                “Well, Senator, you must have faith in the people of the Middle East.”

                “Ambassador Cohan, we showed our faith in funding the Afghan resistance in the 80’s and we got Osama bin Ladin.  We showed our faith in Iraq in the 80’s and we got Saddam Hussein.  We have showed our faith as the State Department funded ‘cultural rehabilitation’ of Islamic mosques in nations seeking to destroy us.  All of this has been faith betrayed.  I have faith in the nation of Israel and their continued practice of democracy.  And the only way I could support this Sheikh or any other would be if they not only pledged their full and complete support of the nation of Israel, but were to consistently practice it before asking this nation for a dime.  And since that can never happen, I cannot give my support to such a peace plan.”

                “Fortunately for all of us, you are not the President, Senator Hart.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Alf, my friend, how are you doing.”

 

                “Preston, I am fine.  Is everything alright?”  Guiron is looking at his clock, estimating Washington time to be one in the morning.

 

                “Yes, things are moving along here.  I was wondering how the weather is in Jaffa?”

 

                “Are you planning a visit, Preston?”

 

                “I thought an outing for some of my people would be good.  They could meet their counterparts; get a feeling for the region, talk.”

 

Talk.  Preston must have something good to want a face to face.

 

                “Jaffa is beautiful; warm temperatures, and warm friendship.  You and your people will enjoy Jaffa.”

 

                “Excellent, I look forward to seeing you.  Perhaps we can meet this evening, if you’re free?”

 

                “Let me know when you arrive?”  It’s something good.

 

                “I look forward to seeing you.”

 

No sooner had Alf Guiron hung up with Preston Huntington, Guiron called the Prime Minister.

 

                “Moshe, we have guests flying in.”

 

                “Who are they?”

 

                “Preston Huntington and several members from Central Intelligence; they are arriving tonight.”

 

                “Did he say what the meeting was about?”

 

                “No, but the last time we met, our lives were spared.”  Indeed, the last time Preston Huntington flew immediately from Washington to Tel Aviv, he brought sensitive information about an assassination attempt involving Syrians and a Mossad mole.

 

                “Alf, I have a wonderful bottle of Yatir Forest that you might want to share with our guests.”

 

Guiron smiled.  Moshe is breaking out the good stuff.

 

                “I will be by to personally pick it up.”

 

                “I will be expecting you.”

 

*     *     *     *     *

President Mitchell was dozing in the living room of the residence, when his phone rang.

 

                “Mitchell.”

 

                “Mr. President, this is Huntington.”

 

                “Yes Preston, is something the matter?”

 

                “Sir, I just wanted you to know that I am flying out to Israel in half an hour.  I believe we have a handle on what is going on in the Middle East and the connection to the assassination.  We need to talk directly with Mossad to tie this up.”

 

                “By all means, go and be careful.  When can you bring me up to speed?”

 

                “I can video conference from the plane, so I can update you in the morning after you’ve gotten some sleep.”

 

                “Alright Preston, I will be awaiting your call.”

 

*     *     *     *     *

With all passengers aboard, the Gulfstream rolled down the runway en route to Ben Gurion International in Tel Aviv.  The passengers quickly got comfortable in the luxury appointments and within a matter of minutes all were asleep. 

 

 

XXV

 

 

 

It was another restless morning and another day in pain.  Jacob Snow’s words echoed in Stetson’s head, “Do you have the willingness to live and handle the pain for her.”  Mitchell pulled his wallet out and looked at the pictures of Constance.  Yes, I can handle her pain; she would want me to live.  Joshua gently kissed the photos and closed his wallet.

 

Roberts had stopped by the Office to check on her charge.  He still looked tired and emotionally in pain.  But there was something different in his attitude this morning.

 

                “Good morning, Mr. President.”

 

                “Good morning, Cass.  All secure?”

 

                “Yes.  I was about to ask you the same thing.”

 

                “Better.  Thanks for checking on me.”

 

Roberts handed a weekly report to the President.  Mitchell scanned through the report noting several changes to the details routine and security updates.  After giving Stetson a brief explanation of the updates, Roberts turned and left the Office.  As Roberts walked out, Élan Suzuki stopped at the doorway and gently rapped on the door.

 

                “Good morning, sir.”

 

                “Good morning, Miss Suzuki.  What can I do for you?”

 

                “I have the finalized plan for the State Dinner with Great Britain for you to review, and I’ve come to accept your invitation to dinner.”

 

                “Thank you.”  The President took the folder from Miss Suzuki and led her to one of the easy chairs.  After a few minutes, the President handed the folder back to her.  “This is an interesting list of guests.  Do they know that I’m a Republican?”

 

                “Mr. President, you are currently the main event in town.  Not one person I invited refused.  I even received calls from people asking why they weren’t invited.”

 

                “So this means I must be on my best behavior.  No slurping the soup, elbows off the table.  Can I wear one of my Hawaiian shirts?”

 

                “It’s black tie, Sir.  That means a tuxedo.”

 

Stetsons expression changed.

 

                “I’m lousy at tying a bow tie.  Connie used to do it for me.”

 

                “As long as you have a good tux, I can take care of the tie.”

 

                “Thank you.”

 

                “You’re welcome, sir.  Now about the dancing; you are an excellent dancer, but your movements are stiff.  I understand that you are still recovering and that dancing with someone else is awkward, but that is something you will need to do.  I suggest we dance several dances together in the afternoons up until the dinner, so you will feel more comfortable for the dinner.”

 

                “That makes sense.  Good thinking.  So, I come to your office, or do I meet you in the State Dining Room.”

 

                “I suggest in the State Dining Room; being familiar with the environment will help you as well.”

 

                “Have you given thought to acting as the official White House Hostess?”

 

                “I will try it out.  If it is too much, I will have to find you a replacement.”

 

                “Thank you.”

 

Both Stetson and Élan Suzuki stood and walked to the door. 

 

                “I will see you this afternoon, Miss Suzuki.”

 

                “Until then, sir.”

 

As Miss Suzuki left, COS Mike Rodgers entered the Office.

 

                “Morning, Boss.”

 

                “There goes the morning”

 

                “What?”

 

                “I had two lovely ladies visit this morning, and then you arrived.”

 

Both men heard giggling as Suzuki was walking away.

 

Rodgers stood there and shook his head.  “It’s going to be one of those days, isn’t it Boss?”

*     *     *     *     *

On Constitution Av, the trial of John Tolebridge continued.

 

                “Dr. Cartwright, you are a professor of law at the Harvard School of Law.  How long have you been teaching law, sir?”

 

                “I have been teaching at Harvard for the past 12 years.  Prior to that, I was at Columbia for seven years.”

                “And have you actually argued cases in court or has your legal experience been limited to academia?”

                “Sir, I have argued before the United States Supreme Court on several occasions, in addition to numerous representations of clients before state and federal courts.”

                “So, Dr. Cartwright, you are recognized by the United States Supreme Court to argue Constitutional law?”

                “That is correct.”

                “Are you familiar with the defendant?”

                “Yes, we were law partners for a short time.  We have argued a few cases together since.”

                “Have you argued any cases together before the Supreme Court?”

                “Yes.”

                “Is Mr. Tolebridge a good Constitutional lawyer?”

                “I would consider him among the best in the nation.”

                “Dr. Cartwright, constitutionally, what is the purpose of the Presidential oath of office?”

                “The purpose is to bond the elected candidate with the office of election.”

                “Please explain what you mean by ‘bond’.”

                “By taking the oath of office, the elected candidate vows to fulfill the office in accordance with the Constitution and federal laws.”

                “In a situation where the President dies in office, is the Speaker of the House authorized to take the Presidential oath of office with a surviving Vice President?”

                “Yes, but only if the Vice President is incapacitated and unable to fill the office.”

                “In the situation surrounding the assassination of President Hart, did such conditions exist justifying Mr. Tolebridge’s taking the Presidential oath of office?”

                “No, Vice President Mitchell was not incapacitated.”

*     *     *     *     *

The Gulfstream touched down at Ben Gurion International and rolled to an area reserved for government access.  Several town cars that were waiting for the special guests approached.  The planes doors opened and the American entourage descended the stairs, happy to once more be on the ground after so long a flight.

                “Preston, my friend, welcome back.”

                “Thank you, Alf.  Let me introduce you to my aides; Alan Hawkins, and Roy Grant.”

                “Mr. Hawkins, Mr. Grant, it is a pleasure. Let me introduce Asaf Blum.”

After the introductions were made, the parties entered the town cars - Huntington and Guiron in the lead vehicle and the analysts in the second, and began their journey to seaside Jaffa.

                “Alan, what information are you bringing Mossad?  So quick a visit can only denote importance.”

                “Asaf, we have grave concerns regarding the activity in Pakistan and Afghanistan.  And we believe it is connected with the assassination of President Hart.”

                “Does this concern ‘the Sheikh’?”

                “Yes.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Colonel Cassis, you didn’t eat at all yesterday, and today you still refuse food.  Please eat something; we don’t want your government thinking that we are abusing you.”  Perkins sat at the table eating turkey bacon; they didn’t wish to offend their guest with an offering of pork.  Agnew decided to not be present until later.

                “I will not eat until I have representation from my embassy.”

                “Sir, your embassy has someone here.  We are in the process of clearing him.  Please have something.”

                “I will not be staying.  I will eat something when I return to the embassy.”

As Colonel Cassis sat at the interrogation table, his stomach growled loudly.  Within a couple minutes, a member of the Iranian Embassy was with them in the interrogation room, along with Carlyle Murphy of the United States State Department.

                “Gentlemen, would you like a bite of breakfast before we begin.  Colonel Cassis has refused.”

                “Sir, that is gracious of you, but as soon as you release Colonel Cassis, we will be returning to the embassy.

                “Colonel Cassis is not leaving.  He is a person of interest in the attempted murder of a United States citizen.”  Carlyle Murphy spoke firmly.  “If you wish to file a grievance with our government, feel free to do so.  They are expecting your call.”

Cassis and the embassy legation both had looks of shock on their faces.  The legation stepped out of the room to confer with his embassy, escorted by Murphy.  “Colonel, I suggest you have a bite to eat.”

After a few minutes, the Iranian legation returned to the interrogation room and asked to speak to Cassis alone.  Perkins pulled the blinds up as he stepped out of the room and joined Murphy.  Knowing that their meeting was not completely private, their conversation was short.

                “Colonel, what is going on here?  What are they asking?”

                “They want to know who ‘the Sheikh’ is.”

                “Is there anything else we need to know?”

                “Two members of the Defense Force failed to follow orders and complete a mission.”

                “Are they taking their orders from you?”

                “Yes.”

                “Who are you taking your orders from?”

                “The Sheikh.”

                “I will relay this to our President.”

The Iranian legation left the field office and returned to the embassy.  As the legation left, Agnew arrived and led Perkins back into the interrogation room.  Agnew took the lead on the questioning.

                “Mr. Cassis, do you understand the term ‘Enemy Combatant’?

                “I’ve heard the phrase before.”

                “Good.  Do you know where enemy combatants are housed?”

                “They used to be housed at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, but you government is closing it down.”

                “That has changed.  You are now charged as an enemy combatant of the United States.  Prepare to be moved to a more tropical climate, Mr. Cassis.”

                “You can’t do that.  I have not committed any crime against the United States.”

                “You don’t consider conspiracy to murder the President of the United States after the fact, a crime against the United States?”

                “I had nothing to do with that.”

                “The two Syrians claim that they reported to you.  They received orders to murder the two remaining assassins of the President from you.  They each received a death pill, potassium cyanide, from you.”

                “It’s their word against mine.  They are crazy Syrians.  I am a Colonel in the Islamic Defense Force; a special attaché to the Commanding General.  You think anyone will take their word over mine?”

                “Yes.  You had potassium cyanide in your garage.  Your computer has encrypted messages on it.  There are a number of phone calls placed from their cells to yours.”

                “That doesn’t mean anything; the cyanide is used as rat poison, and I received numerous prank calls from someone saying they were with the IRS.”

                “Do you know Lieutenant Aram Habibo?”

                “I served with him.”

                “You gave him orders on behalf of the Sheikh to execute the families of the Mexican assassins.”

                “I did nothing of the sort.”

                “Why would he lie?  Why would he and the 13 others say you gave the execution orders?”

                “It must be a conspiracy against me.  I want my legal representation.”

                “Do you know Lieutenants Sayad or Caleb?

                “No.”

                “Your Commanding Officer sent them to you a month ago with orders to conduct a surveillance of a woman and her child.”

                “Who are these people who are accusing me?  They are lying.  I know my rights.  You are to provide me legal representation.”

                “So many different people are lying, trying to frame you for the murder of the President of the United States.  Why would they do that?  The best thing you can do is cooperate with our investigation, and we can work on your repatriation to Iran rather than you dying in a cell in Cuba.  Who is ‘the Sheikh’?”

                “I don’t know who you are talking about.  ”

                “First, you do not have a right to an attorney; you are not a citizen of the United States, but rather a foreign agent.  Second, you are in the United States, acting in a military capacity.  Get used to an eight by eight cell in the tropics.  And I suggest you eat.  Travelling on an empty stomach is not a good idea.”

Agnew and Perkins stood and walked out.  They left the bacon on the table.

*     *     *     *     *

At a house sitting on the beach just south of Jaffa, a group of men sit with their shoes off and feet in the sand, staring at a fire in a fire pit, while drinking Yatir Forest wine and listening to the waves roll ashore from the Mediterranean.

                “Alf, this is very good wine; very pleasant, indeed.”

                “Complements of the Prime Minister; we have not forgotten your last spontaneous meeting.”

                “I hope to give you another gift of knowledge.  We believe we understand what is going on with Pakistan and Afghanistan.  And we have a plausible connection between those events and the assassination of President Hart.”

                “Indeed.”

                “Roy, please share the insights that spurred this trip.”

                “Director Guiron, first looking at Pakistan we saw protests and demonstrations that did not fit the political atmosphere.  The actions of the protestors were those of dissatisfaction of months to a year.  Yet the protests were in response to a media blitz of only several weeks, and enflamed by clerics and university professors.  As quickly as the protests heated up, they were quieted just as quickly.  In the end, the Pakistani military is under the direction of the IDF, the Presidency is controlled by Clerics, and the Parliament is at risk of being overturned by fundamentalists.  Now Afghanistan is facing the same situation, except the IDF is enhanced with Pakistani military personnel.”

                “So we are facing a complete shift in the geopolitical landscape of the region.”  Asaf Blum is carefully considering the facts as he watches the flames dance in the fire ring.  “Has anyone considered that the IDF forces were primarily Iranian; now Pakistan and Afghanistan are starting to look a lot like Iran?  And let us not forget Iraq.  If they go the same way, we are looking at a powerful Iranian influence in the region.”

                “Preston, you have succeeded in frightening us.  How is this connected to the assassination?”

                “Al-Karzah.  Mohammad bin Al-Karzah paid off several moles in our Secret Service.  His older brother, Danyal, held a lecture that most of the clerics, professors, and teachers attended.  The lecture addressed the need for and means to achieve a unified Islam.”

                “So Al-Karzah is the focal point?”

                “Yes, we believe either one of the Al-Karzah clan, or someone espousing their philosophy had President Hart murdered to prevent American intervention.”  Now Hawkins diverted his attention from the surf and the dancing flames to speak.  “With the United States possibly immobilized by the assassination, we could not respond diplomatically or militarily.  The issue we need to resolve now is who is behind this?”

Blum and Guiron looked at each other.

                “The Sheikh.”

                “Alf, who is ‘the Sheikh’?  Our State and Justice Departments are asking me about him and I have no answers for them.  He is connected in the assassination as well.  Apparently, he ordered the killing of our two surviving assassins.  And according to intelligence from the Mexican government, he ordered the killing of all the families of the assassins in Mexico.”

                “His identity is still unknown to us.  He is an advocate of our annihilation. He also calls for all Islam to unify and views himself as the Caliph of a restored Islamic empire.”

Hawkins is once more staring at the flames dancing before him.

                “If Iraq goes the way of Afghanistan, he may get his wish.”

*     *     *     *     *

Ron Agnew and Mike Perkins sat in Agnew’s office at Justice.

                “Mike, I still can’t believe how cocky he was.”

                “I know. I’m the special attaché to the general.  He is definitely pompous.”

                “Who is the general?”

                “What?”

                “Who is the general?  The Sheikh pulled off the assassination of the most powerful leader in the world.  According to Edgington, the C.I.A. believes the Sheikh is behind the mess in the Middle East.  Cassis answers to ‘the Sheikh’.  Of course Cassis is cocky.  But there is more than cockiness there; he was bragging.  Cassis is the special attaché to the general.  Could the general be ‘the Sheikh’?  Or does the general answer to ‘the Sheikh’ as well?”

                “Either way, as soon as we break his computers, we’ll know.”

*     *     *     *     *

On the secure grounds of the embassy on Wisconsin Avenue, the Iranian Ambassador is in his office behind closed doors.

                “Yes, Colonel Cassis is in American custody.”

                “What are they asking and what has he told them?”

                “He has said nothing, but they are asking for the identity of the Sheikh and have advised that the two Defense Force members that were sent have also been captured.”

                “Our liabilities are growing.”

                “Yes sir.  Does the President know your identity?”

                “No he doesn’t and I want to keep it that way.”

“Yes sir.”

“I will be in touch.”

 

 

XXVI

 

The sun glittered on the water as waves from the Mediterranean rolled onto the sand.  The visitors from Virginia had just finished their breakfast on the deck as a town car arrived at the beach house.  Moments later, the Director of Mossad was drinking orange juice as Asaf Blum was opening a document pouch.

                “Preston, the Prime Minister was hoping to meet with you this morning.”

                “I would be pleased to meet with him.”

                “I believe we can leave these men here to work, as tempting as the surf may be.”  Guiron was laughing.  “Young Asaf mentioned taking your aides on a tour of the city, but I told him I expect some results first.”

Blum tried his best to look hurt, and failed.  After several more cups of coffee, Huntington and Guiron sat in the backseat of the armored town car and headed to Tel Aviv.

                “Asaf, what’s in the pouch?”

                “It is something that may be of interest to you.  We have someone inside the Afghani Parliament.  Our contact sent us a report on the late night meeting last Tuesday night.  It is a very detailed report.”  Blum handed the report to Hawkins.  “This is your copy.”

                “Thank you.” Hawkins flipped through the folder.  ‘This seems to be an in-depth report.”

                “If you go to page four you may find something of interest.”

Hawkins turned to page four, read down several lines and then whistled as he handed the report to Grant.

                “Abbud bin Al-Karzah!”  Grant turned to the front page and started reading.

                “Asaf, Abbud is the family patriarch, correct?”

                “Yes.  We have a preliminary bio on him.  Abbud bin Al-Karzah, 72 years old.  He was a Major in the Iranian Army under the Shah back in the 70’s.  He stayed in the army after the regime change and worked his way up to General and then retired.  He carries a lot of influence with the Iranian government.  Abbud is a close friend and advisor of their President.”

                “I think it’s time for a stroll by the water.”  Hawkins turned and started down the steps from the deck leaving Grant and Blum to chat.

*     *     *     *     *

Friday morning was busy at the White House.  Mitchell, seated in the back seat of the Presidential limo, was en route to his first Presidential address to an actual United States audience.  This audience was the Association of Religious Broadcasters and was a town hall format. 

                “Boss, you know that they will be lobbing grenades along with the soft balls?  Don’t think this is going to be some church social.”

                “Mike, are you trying to be funny?  The Association of Religious Broadcasters a church social?”  Stetson smiled as Rodgers closed his eyes and shook his head.  “Seriously, I doubt they are expecting me to be swinging with a grenade launcher of my own.”

Rodgers nodded his head.  After reading the Presidents revision of his personal philosophy addressing the political landmines each administration faces, Mike wondered if Mitchell could have been elected on his own.

                “Boss, you need to be gentle with them.  They’re not used to a President who actually speaks his mind.  And they will be blindsided when you put the ball back in their court.”

                “Blindsided?  I certainly hope so.  Mike, I have no intention of starting a religious war, but I’m not going to couch my words either.  Perhaps it’s time a President actually spoke his heart and lived his words.”

Rodgers was studying his bosses face as Mitchell rifled through his pockets, checking for papers.  Mike rubbed his sweaty palms on his pant legs.  I can’t believe he’s about to challenge these guys on their morals.

The convoy pulled up in front of the auditorium and, after deploying, the Secret Service gave the all clear.  First Mitchell exited, then Rodgers.  After walking through empty hallways, Joshua reached the door to the main hall.

                “Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States.”

The door opened and Joshua Mitchell entered with a smile on his face, shaking hands as he made his way to the front.  Joshua chose to forgo the use of the cane and made it to the stage without too noticeable a limp.  On the stage, were two easy chairs separated by a small table.  Mitchell stepped on stage and shook hands with the Moderator.

                “Good morning.  It is a pleasure to be here today.  Many have expressed a curiosity regarding my personal beliefs and philosophies.  I understand that a large number of people have gone to the White House website and viewed the video clips under ‘What I Believe’.  Of all the issues listed I would have to say that my greatest concern is the lack of the American people to take responsibility for their actions.  I wish to read a quote from Martin Niemoller.”  Mitchell pulled a card from his shirt pocket,

                “First they came for the communists, and I did not speak out because I was not a communist;                    Then they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out because I was not a socialist;                              Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out because I was not a trade    unionist;                                                               Then they went after the homosexuals and infirm, and I did not stand up because I was neither;                        Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out because I was not a Jew;
                Then they came for the Catholics, and I didn’t speak up, because I was a Protestant.
                Then they came for me, and by that time there was no one left to speak up for me.

This quote was from a pastor held as the personal prisoner of Adolph Hitler in World War II.  This has nothing to do with condoning behavior or beliefs.  This has everything to do with not opposing what is wrong or evil.  Hitler gained control of Germany because people did not speak up, people did not take responsibility and act.

We are faced with a government that is nonresponsive to the needs of the people as well as a number of social issues today that are morally wrong.  I am not saying that we should roam the streets in revolution or imprison every homosexual and torch every abortion clinic.  But there are actions that can be taken that are in compliance with the teachings of Christ.  It’s about time that we, you and I and those we answer to, that we start doing more than voting for the candidate with incumbent after their name and verbally assaulting those we disagree with.  It’s time we were responsible.”

                *     *     *     *     *

Ron Agnew and Mike Perkins entered a non-descript building just south of Alexandria.  Once inside the building, things were different.  Weapons were checked, identification was scrutinized by security at 4 different check points and you walked through an x-ray screen.  After walking through the security gauntlet, both men proceeded to one of the facilities interrogation rooms.  Minutes later, they were joined by Ibriham Cassis, now dressed in an orange jumpsuit.

                “Mr. Cassis, you understand that you are now being charged as an enemy combatant of the United States.  You are being charged as an accessory in the murders of President James Hart, Carolyn Hart, and Constance Mitchell.”  This time, Perkins was taking the lead on questioning.

                “I demand contact with my embassy.  You have no right to treat me like this.”

                “Mr. Cassis, you are in no position to make any demands.  Had you cooperated with us yesterday this would not be necessary.”

                “I am protected by diplomatic immunity.”

                “No sir, you are not.  Your embassy at no time made any claims on your behalf.  They have essentially turned their back on you.  If you wish to pursue this line, it would be helpful to know your supervisors name.  You did state that you are a special attaché attached to a General.”

                “Yes, I am with the Islamic Defense Force and I report directly to General Al-Karzah.  General Abbud bin Al-Karzah.”

                “Who is this General Al-Karzah?”

                “He is the Commanding General of the Islamic Defense Force.”

                “One of the Generals?

                “The General.”

                “Like our Grant or Lee?”

                “Exactly.”

                “Alright, we will advise our State Department and see what response we get.  Hopefully we can resolve this matter to the satisfaction of all parties”

Perkins and Agnew stepped out of the room.  They walked down the hallway and into an empty office.

                “Ron, are you calling Langley or am I?

*     *     *     *     *

The Honorable Corbin Shepherd was handed a note by the clerk.  Lincoln was questioning a Marine Captain concerning the events that occurred inside the Oval Office between the President and the defendant.  Shepherd opened the note and immediately called a recess. 

Moments later, Shepherd, Lincoln, and King, were presented a report from the independent, court examiner concerning the authenticity of the Oval Office video.  Shepherd read the report out loud to the opposing councils.  The expert stated that the video was authentic and unaltered.

                “Mr. Lincoln, when do you plan to present this evidence?”

                “I plan to call the courts independent authority on Monday at which time I will introduce the evidence.  I wish at this time to advise the defense that we will be calling several additional witnesses in connection with the video recording.”  Lincoln handed the witness list to the Judge.  The Judge reviewed the list then handed it to King.

                “These are all the aides of Speaker Tolebridge; we were planning to call them in support of the Speaker.”

                “Your Honor, these witnesses will be used to corroborate the video recording.  We will question them concerning their actions as they occur on the recording.”

                “Your Honor, they can’t.”

                “Mr. King, if they present the video as evidence, then everything on the video is fair game for both sides.”

                “Your Honor, the defense requests a recess until Monday.”

                “Granted.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Director, I just received a call from Edgington.  He has some information for us from the Commission.”  The Deputy Director of Intelligence sounded a bit excited, which was not his norm.

                “Joe, what does he have?”

                “General Abbud bin Al-Karzah of the Islamic Defense Force.  He is the commanding General of the entire force.” 

                “Did Edgington say if he is ‘the Sheikh’?”

                “No, apparently the F.B.I. is still checking into that bit.  They have someone in custody who reports directly to him.  F.B.I. also has two members of the IDF in custody that were sent by General Al-Karzah to conduct surveillance of the Secret Service’s mole’s family.”

                “Hawkins and Grant will like hearing this.  Thanks for the info, Joe.”

Huntington was sitting on the deck looking out at the ocean.  Occasionally he would see one of the Mossad security moving on the beach.

                “What will we like to hear, sir?”  Grant had a quizzical look on his face.

                “General Abbud bin Al-Karzah of the Islamic Defense Force.”

                “That explains being part of the late night Parliament meeting.”

                “But is he ‘the Sheikh’ or does the General report to someone else?”  Alan was playing scenarios over in his head.

                “The Bureau is working on that.  According to Edgington, they have someone who reports directly to him.  And they also have a surveillance team in custody who was tailing the family of the Secret Service mole.  They were sent by General Al-Karzah.”

                “Well sir, either General Al-Karzah is the Sheikh or he reports to the Sheikh.  Until we find out who this Sheikh is, we will never know which end of the snake we are holding.  At least we have confirmation that the Middle East activity is tied to the assassination.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “President Mitchell, you claim that you oppose abortion and that you hold these high values.  Then people ask what you will do to put your faith into action and you tell us that you are limited in what you can do.”

                “Mr. Connors, I am the President of the United States, not the High Priest of the United States.  My duties, as delineated by the Constitution, include being Commander-in-Chief of the military, chief diplomat, the head law enforcement officer, and the chief administrative officer of the federal government.  The founding fathers established a republic to maintain civil order and protect freedoms, and not a theocracy which insures the freedom of one religion and the enforcement of beliefs by law.  Mr. Connors, let me ask a question of you: who is more effective in converting souls?  Is the Government with the imposition of law or the Church through the Gospel?”

“Obviously the most effective is the Church through the Gospel.”

“Then why does the Church have a divorce rate that rivals the world?  Why does the church have an abortion rate?  You demand to know what I am going to doing.  What are you doing?  I am endued with immense powers, but I am not God.  I do not have the power to effect change of the human heart.  That is the realm of the Church as God’s ambassadors.  I can only do what the Constitution permits; you have access to that unlimited power from God; the power that transforms lives.  Would truly transformed lives be committing adultery, seeking abortions, using drugs, beating their wives?  If Christians lived what they believed, every day, the Gospel would be taken to every heart.  Then where would the need for Government intervention into the realm of the Church be?”

                “So you are blaming us.”

                “I am saying not to place your unlimited responsibility on a limited political position.  If I were accusing you, I would have asked you why you aren’t living according to the standards of scripture; I would be presenting an ecclesiastical case with specific crimes pronounced, seeking to strip each of you of your positions.  I’m not you pastor or priest, that is an issue between you and the Judge of Eternity.  I am here, in this office for just a short time, compared to the opportunities you have before you to reshape the world.  I will do all that is right for the short time I am empowered to do so.  Let us simply keep our responsibilities in perspective.”

The audience was visibly uncomfortable with the Presidents response.  After a moment the monitor spoke up,

                “Ladies and gentlemen, the President has time for one more question.”  Only one hand went up, and it seemed to do so reluctantly.  “John Princeton of United Broadcasting, what is your question?”

                “Mr. President what do you see as the one issue that will destroy our nation if left unchecked.”

                “Mr. Princeton, let me read a quote.”  The President pulled an index card from his wallet, and unfolded it. 

                “At what point shall we expect the approach of danger?  By what means shall we fortify                               against it?   Shall we expect some transatlantic military giant, to step the Ocean, and                       crush us at a blow? Never!  All the armies of Europe, Asia and Africa combined, with all the                    treasure of the earth (our own excepted) in their military chest; with a Bonaparte for a      commander, could not by force, take a drink from the Ohio, or make a track on the Blue                     Ridge, in a trial of a thousand years.  At what point then is the approach of danger to be             expected?  I answer, if it ever reach us, it must spring up amongst us. It cannot come from      abroad. If destruction be our lot, we must ourselves be its author and finisher.  As a nation         of freemen, we must live through all time, or die by suicide.

                This quote is from a 28 year old Abraham Lincoln.  And he was correct.  The only force that can and will destroy the United States is its own people.  And the danger I see comes from the apathy of and refusal by the people of the United States to take responsibility for their own actions connected with a lack of dignity and respect towards others.

                Take our budget for an example.  Every budget that is passed places this nation into further debt, because Congress refuses to pass a balanced budget.  One third of our budget is devoted to entitlement programs.  One third.  Congress has known of this problem for 35 years, and their response is to put a band aid on it and punt it down the road to be dealt with five years later.  The citizens of this nation know this problem exists and complain about it, yet they continue to reelect those who didn’t deal with the situation in the first place.  This doesn’t even address the issue of benefit recipients who could have saved and prepared but didn’t because they wanted the pleasure at the time with the expectation that someone else will take care of them later.

                There is even a disease that excuses us from our wrongdoing.  It used to be called ‘rebellion’.  Now it is called ‘Oppositional Defiant Disorder’.  Its symptoms include: performing actions deliberately to annoy others, blaming others for their own actions, being argumentative, and being spiteful or seeking revenge.  Abortion exists because women want the pleasure of sex without the responsibility of pregnancy and parenting.  Men beat their wives, and then blame them for acting in ‘a manner deserving of being hit’.  Persons participate in welfare programs, capable of working but refusing to work because the jobs interfere with their ‘personal lives’.

                These are hard words for anyone to say and for everyone to hear.  Taking responsibility for one’s own actions is not a new concept.  Unfortunately, it is a concept that is being tossed aside by many looking for pleasure now, without considering the future costs of their actions.”  Mitchell felt his wristwatch vibrate and turned to the moderator.

                “Ladies and gentlemen,” the moderator of the town hall meeting chuckled, “if no one else is willing to publicly spar with the President, then let us thank him for taking time out of his busy day to be with us.”

Chuckling could be heard throughout the audience as the audience rose and applauded.  The President, smiling in response to the chucking, stepped down from the stage and slowly made his way to the door, once more shaking hands.

Once inside the limo, he was able to relax.

                “You did well, boss.  I expected Connors to try to harpoon you, but he seemed a bit contrite in the end.”

                “Mike, I simply told them who I was and what I believe.”

                “That you did Boss, but most people do not like being told to step up and take responsibility.”

                “It’s something people need to get used to; they will be hearing a lot more of it.”

Rodgers nodded and thought.  I hope he isn’t planning on running for four more years.

*     *     *     *     *

                “Ron, I just got a call from one of my lab people.  He says he has something off the desk computer that I’ll want to see.  Want to join me?”

                “Sure.  It’ll take some time for that communique to the General to not arrive.”

                “When I tell him next time that he is staying, it should take the wind out of his sails.”

                “Are you any good at poker?”

                “Sure.  Why?”

                “I just need to remember not to play against you.”

*     *     *     *     *

In a conference room inside the courthouse, Marcus King sat with his client.

                “John, your case is crumbling.  The prosecution is planning on introducing the video recording on Monday.  They are going to call all the staff that was with you at the White House to corroborate the video.  Once that video is played in court, he can question them about their actions and they are going to take you down.”

                “Marcus, you telling me to plea bargain?”

                “I am advising you of what you are facing.  A plea bargain may be your only chance to avoid the death penalty.”

                “I can’t be charged with treason, it’s unconstitutional.  You prove that and the death penalty goes away.”

                “You just don’t get it, do you?  They did charge you with treason, they are proving you committed treason, and once that video is played, that jury out there will believe you committed treason.  And just so you know, I believe you did too.  Once that video is introduced, you are a dead man walking.”

                “Then block the video, prove it to be tainted.”

                “I can’t because it’s not.”

                “I did nothing wrong.”

                “You took the oath of office and acted on it, declaring yourself as President, when you were not permitted to do so.  When the real President challenged you, you tried to have him forcibly removed.  You did everything wrong.  You are guilty of the charges.”

Tolebridge sat in the room for a moment taking in what his council was saying.  He hated Mitchell and plea bargaining meant that Mitchell won.  But he couldn’t oppose Mitchell from the grave.

                “Okay.  Tell them to drop the treason charge and I will plead guilty to everything else.  I want the sentences served concurrently.”

                “I’ll try, but they are holding all the cards.”

*     *     *     *     *

Back at the Bureau, Perkins and Agnew are sitting down with a computer tech.

                “We have been able to recover several emails between Cassis and the Sheikh.”  The technician handed copies of the emails to Perkins.  “We can get his IP address and can track it.”

Perkins read through several emails and handed them to Agnew.

                “Todd, track it.  I want to know who and where.”

While the technician tracked the IP address, Ron Agnew read through the emails:

                                Sir, the training is progressing.  We should be ready in another week.  As discussed, we                                  will enter through Mexico to the safe house and will await their signal.  Once the mission                              is complete we will eliminate all collateral.

Another read:

                                Understand threat.  Awaiting assets arrival.  Will insure success of clean up.

                “Mike, this guy was at the camp in Pakistan.”

                “I need a picture of him.  I will have Gomez try to identify him.  Todd, how are we doing on tracking that address?”

                “Here is the IP address and the provider.  You will need a warrant to get the name.”

                “Thanks Todd.”

                “Mike, I’ll need a picture as well to show Thoms.”

                “Will do.” 

 

 

XXVII

 

Friday afternoon, Joshua Mitchell walked to the State Dining Room.  As he entered the dining room, he was greeted by music. 

                “How’s the leg today, Mr. President?”

                “It’s still sore, but it’s getting better.”

Élan Suzuki stood in the middle of the room.  The mp3 player was going through its playlist.  Élan just stood there, waiting.  The song finished, and another started.

                “Shall we dance?”

                “When you are ready, sir.  Remember, you lead, I just follow.”

Mitchell for a moment looked like a lost child.  He closed his eyes, then opened them and walked to his waiting dance partner in the middle of the room.

                “Miss Suzuki, may I have this dance.”

                “I would be honored.”

Joshua took her right hand in his left and placed his right on her shoulder and they began to move to the music.  Just as he did the day before, Stetson started off a bit stiff, but began to relax a little as they danced.

                “Mr. President, people are going to expect you to talk some while you dance.”

                “I have trouble walking and chewing gum at the same time.  You want me to talk while we dance?”

                “You talked to your wife when you danced, didn’t you?”

                “Yes I did.  I would tell her how good it felt to hold her, and how beautiful she was.”

                “You realize you are talking now, don’t you?”

                “And we are simply moving in a box.”

                “Twinkle, then tell me hello.”

The President did a twinkle step.

                “Hello.”

                “That wasn’t hard, was it?”

                “No.  And yes.  All of this is so intimate.  I feel like I’m cheating on Connie.”

                “If she had survived, would she understand if you danced with the Queen?”

                “Yes.  It would be awkward for me but she would understand.”

                “She understands.  And if she were her she would tell you so, and I think she would tell you that she wants you to be happy and live.”

The song ended, and a wave of relief swept over Stetson.  Suzuki pulled the remote from her pocket and pressed the stop button.

                “I know she would, I would say the same to her if we traded places.  It doesn’t make things any easier, though.”

                “Mr. President, did you know that I will be wearing a strapless gown for the dinner?”

                “No, is that important for me to know?”

Élan took her sweater off and placed it on a nearby chair, and walked back to the President.  She was wearing a strapless top.  She pushed the play button on the remote and the music began playing again.  Mitchell took Suzuki into his frame once more and realized the meaning of her statement as he placed his hand on her bare shoulder blade.

                “Oh.”

As they began dancing Élan saw the President close his eyes and swallow several times.  She felt a tremble from his hand on her shoulder.

                “Mr. President, I heard your town hall meeting with the broadcasters today.  You were a commanding presence on stage and have an interesting way of putting things.”

Stetson opened his eyes and looked at her funny, but kept moving.

                “You seemed to have caught the audience off balanced, sir.”

                “I simply told them what I believe, and what I thought.”

Élan could see he was really concentrating to talk and move.  His hand was hardly trembling now.

                “They had no problem with what you believe.  You got several standing ovations.”

The President did a twinkle step.

                “I was surprised by those.”

                “But when you started talking about the issue of responsibility, they got very uneasy.”

                “That I did expect.”

The President led a promenade step and Élan Suzuki giggled.

                “Élan, you like it when I put people back on their heels?”

The song ended and another began.

                “I like seeing a President who has the courage to stand up for what is actually right.  I think a lot of the bullying we see in society is people doing what they think is right without thinking.  You challenged the religious establishment to act thoughtfully; to be Christian, not just talk Christian.”

The President did a cape step.

                “That is the point I was hoping they heard.”

                “I also found that quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson interesting.  It seemed that some didn’t know what to make of the quote.  Could you say it again?”

                “Certainly.  The purpose of life is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.”

                “That quote is wonderful.  And the correlations you made to the Christian life " to fight a good fight, to finish your course, to keep the faith " I’m surprised by your knowledge.  That wasn’t from a cue card in your coat pocket.”

                “No it wasn’t.  That quote is also condemning.  I’ve know people who spent hours in ‘prayer’ all the while gossiping.  How honorable is prayer that is based on gossip?  And how compassionate is it when we spend more time telling someone they are going to Hell instead of telling them that God loves them?”

                “Where did you learn that quote?”

                “It was drilled into us by our D.I. in the Navy.  He told us he didn’t want Neanderthals representing him on the battlefield.”

                “Sir, do you realized that you are talking and dancing at the same time?”

                “Am I?”

The President returned to a box step and then reversed positions.  Suzuki giggled again.

                “Yes you are, and you aren’t just moving in a box step either.”

                “It’s still not easy, I can do one or the other; either I pause the conversation to dance, or pause the dance to converse.”

                “You are doing just fine, Mr. President.”

*     *     *     *     *

Perkins returned to the Alexandria facility.  This visit was with Pedro Conception Gomez via an interpreter.

                “Gomez, I have some pictures to show you.”

                “Okay.”

Perkins handed Gomez a folder of pictures.  Gomez thumbed through the photos, stopping halfway.

                “This one.  He was in Pakistan at the camp and went to Mexico with us.  He drove us to kill the President.”

                “Alright, is there anyone else?”

Gomez looked through the rest of the photos, pulling out two more photos.

                “These two, they were at the camp and with us in Mexico also; just as mean as the other guy.”  Gomez went through the photos a second time, and then put them back in the folder.  “Just those three.”

                “Okay.  What kind of vehicle were you in when they took you to the Capitol building?”

                “We were in two large, white, passenger vans.  They dropped us off two blocks away and we walked the rest of the way.”

*     *     *     *     *

Rob Harris arrived at Bethesda Medical Center, and went up to the sixth floor.

                “Jeff, how are you feeling?”

                “As well as a condemned man can.”

                “I have some photos for you to look through.”  Harris handed Thoms a folder.

Thoms carefully looked at each picture setting one aside.  He went through the photos again and placed them back in the folder, leaving the one out.

                “This guy is the one I met with Tony.”

                “Are you sure of that?”

                “Yes.  Rob, thanks for saving Kris and Courtney.”

                “You’re welcome.  Get some rest.”

*     *     *     *     *

Agnew was in his office charting out all the suspects.  This is going to be messy if not handled right.  The primary indictment will be for the Sheikh, whoever he is, and we will work our way down from there.  The phone rang.

                “Ron, its Mike.  We have positive ID on three; Cassis and the two who were stalking the agent’s sister.”

                “Does Gomez put them at the camp in Pakistan?”

                “Yes, and in Mexico.  Cassis was one of the drivers that took them to the Capitol.  I have been able to pull footage up from traffic cams that put Cassis in the vehicle with the hit squad.”

                “Good work.”

                “I’ll see if I can get more.  You’ll have the report tonight.”

                “Thanks Mike.”

Agnew hung up and the phone immediately rang.

                “Hi Ron, this is Harris.  Thoms just fingered Cassis as the guy he met with James.”

                “Excellent.  Write it up and get it to me.”

                “It should be there in the hour.”

*     *     *     *     *

Mitchell had returned from his afternoon dancing and was greeted by Rodgers and Phillips at the office.

                “Boss, Pete is telling me that the press wants to interview you?”

                “I did that good with the broadcasters today?”

                “Mr. President, they see you opening up; first the ‘What I Believe’ column and now the town hall.  They are feeling left out and a bit upset that you bypassed them with your political positions.  They traditionally tell the public your positions.”

                “Pete, I don’t trust them with my positions.  I want to be straight with the public on what I believe.  The media will take what I say and will twist it into a pretzel.”

                “Boss there are some journalist you can trust.  And you are going to need them in the future if you hope to reach out to the public on issues you face.”

                “Pete has a point, Boss.  They are a necessary evil.  And you might as well start now while they still like you.”

                “You expect that to change?”

                “Yes, once they get to know you, and you expect them to act responsibly.”

                “Careful there, Mr. Rodgers.”  The three men chuckled.  “Pete is there anyone in particular asking or am I wanted by everyone?”

                “Everyone wants a piece of you.  I would recommend an on air interview with Marshall Wallace at CNS or Condell Thomas at ABS.”

                “Pete, do you recommend one on one or tag team?”

                “Boss, are you serious?  You would be willing to take both of them on at once?  You realize that while you’re answering one, the other is lying in wait.”

                “Yes, but each can only ask half the questions they normally would.  And they would be competing with each other.”

                “President Mitchell, you are a devious man.  They would have to share the spot light which means while they duke it out, you’re lying in wait.”  Phillips had a look of awe on his face while Rodgers simply shook his head in disbelief.

                “If I must do battle, then I want to be the one to pick the battlefield.  The battle is going to be to my advantage.”

                “Boss, I don’t know if they will go for a joint interview, but I will put it out there.  And if they say no, then what?”

                “Toss a coin and apologize to the loser.”

                “Hey Pete, can I join you and watch?  I’ve never seen journalists rip one another apart before.”

*     *     *     *     *

John Lincoln sat in his office at the Justice Department, watching the Oval Office footage and taking notes.  There was a knock at the door.  Lincoln stopped the recording, stood and opened the door.

                “Marcus, come in and have a seat.  Would you like a cup of coffee?”

                “No thank you, I am trying to cut back to two pots a day.”  King sat down on the couch in the office.

                “What can I do for you Marcus?”

                “You can drop the treason charge.  The Speaker is prepared to plead guilty to the other charges.  And he would like to serve his sentences concurrently.”

                “And why would I drop the treason charge?”

                “You can’t sell it to the jury.  You are violating the Constitution.  It will be overturned by the Supreme Court.  You will be wasting tax dollars when you are guaranteed a conviction with this deal.”

                “Interesting.  You say I can’t sell it, yet the jury is eyeing your client with distain.  I’m violating the Constitution, yet my witnesses who Court justices consult are proving the opposite.  And with the video evidence, the Supreme Court is not an issue.  The government can afford to try, convict and execute a traitor.  And I now have an airtight case that will guarantee conviction of your client on every charge.  What’s the real issue here Marcus?”

                “John, I’m trying to keep him off the execution table.”

                “He will plead guilty to all charges.  In exchange for his plea, the government will waive the death penalty.  For the treason charge, he will be sentenced to life and a day, and forfeiture of his United States citizenship.  He will serve his time at Guantanamo Bay.  All other sentences will be served concurrently, consecutive to the treason charge.”

                “That’s not nice.  You expect the Speaker of the House to be stripped of his citizenship and be housed at Gitmo?  And a life sentence without possibility of parole?”

                “He is no longer the Speaker of the House.  The day he betrayed his nation, he forfeited the honor of that office.  I am giving him the choice to die from natural causes, instead of lethal injection.  That is the only bargain I will make.”

                “I will advise him of your response.  I doubt he will be happy, or willing to accept it.”

                “This isn’t about his happiness.  This is about justice.  I will await your answer.”  And so will the President. 

*     *     *     *     *

Ron Agnew had just latched his brief case and slipped his suit coat on.  What a week.  The phone rang.

                “Agnew.”

                “Ron, its Mike.  You got a minute?”

                “Just walking out the door, what do you have?”

                “The name of the IP address.”

                “And?”

                “Abbud bin Al-Karzah.”

                “He’s the Sheikh?”

                “That’s my guess.  We just need Cassis to say so.”

                “Too bad we just can’t ask Al-Karzah.  Or can we?”

                “Ron, what scary thought is rolling around in that head of yours?”

                “I need to check the legality of it.  I’ll let you know later.”

Ron Agnew took off his coat, sat his brief case down and started pulling down his legal commentaries.

*     *     *     *     *

Mitchell had just fell into the recliner for the evening when his cell rang.  He checked the caller ID and saw that it was the Attorney General.

                “Yes James.”

                “Joshua, I have John Lincoln here.  He has some information to relay to you.”

                “Mr. President?”

                “Yes Mr. Lincoln, what do you have for me?”

                “Sir, I had a visit today from the defense.  He wanted me to drop the Treason charge and let Tolebridge plead guilty to the other charges.”

                “And?”

                “I told him no.  I did offer to drop the death penalty, though.  Instead he would have to accept life and a day at Guantanamo and being stripped of his United States citizenship.  The other charges would be served concurrently consecutive to the Treason sentence.”

                “Why did you take the death penalty off the table?”

                “It’s off the table because you are a man of honor.  You wish to see justice done, not vengeance.  This way Tolebridge is punished for the rest of his life, justice is served, and the people know they have a just President.”

                “James, what is your opinion?”

                “I agree with him Joshua.  This is the right thing to do and we all know it.  I don’t think we can pull off the Gitmo part, but going from the Speakership to life behind bars as a man without a country is huge.  You are a man of honor and I think even Constance would agree with this sentence.”

                “She would.  You have my blessing.”

 

XXVIII

 

The weekly address by the President was uploaded to the White House website in time for the radio and television networks to broadcast it.

                “Good morning.  This past week we have seen and experienced much.  Here in Washington, a historic trial is underway.  Americans love a good trial; this is evident in the television shows and movies we watch and the novels we read.  There are even networks dedicated to televising cases from opening arguments to verdict, with commentary offered by the numerous sources.  We watch the cases, listen to the witnesses, see the evidence, and give our personal opinions regarding which questions were asked, weren’t asked, or should have been asked.  We are the 13th juror.

                I understand it is easy to be swept up in the evidence and testimony presented.  Already there have been protests for and against the defense.  I ask that you withhold your personal judgments.  The defendant is entitled to a fair trial.  You have a Constitutional right to expression, but just because you can doesn’t necessarily mean you should.  It is hard enough for the jurors to remain impartial with the conjecture provided by the media; they don’t need their task made harder with your expressions of protest or support.  Let’s give the judicial process the best possible chance for success.

                Across the Pacific, America faced a great crisis as North Korea challenged the strength and the will of the United States and South Korea.  Much has been said about what was done and the potential we faced.  Some have expressed that the matter was a ploy initiated by me to make myself look more Presidential.  The matter involving the Korean Peninsula was solely the actions of an opportunistic North Korea hoping to exploit our possible vulnerableness to seize further power on the peninsula.

                We were there to support South Korea and insure the continued balance of power in the region.  I salute the men and women of our armed forces for their courage and commitment.  It is because of the dedication and resolve of our military that the United States stands firmly upon this earth.  And it is because of you and your willingness to fight that North Korea chose peace over war.  To you who serve us, thank you.

                It has been nearly four weeks since the assassination of President Hart.  Though much has not been shared during the daily Justice Department briefings, let me assure you that much is happening.  The investigation is continuing as we seek those in hiding who are behind the brutal attack upon the United States.  As soon as we have the suspects in hand, the full story will be shared with you, the strength and heart of this great nation.

                In my first address, I asked that you reach out to your families and tell them that you love them, to take the opportunity to hug them.  I have heard reports of random acts of kindness that go beyond family to strangers.  One incident I was told of involved several families in San Diego, California, focusing on fatherless children, adopting them for the day and taking them to the beach for an outing.  Another in Germantown, Pennsylvania, where a class of fifth graders adopted residents of a convalescent home; the children spent the day just being with these folks, as if it was a day with a grandparent.  This is the heart of America.  This is where our strength resides.  Let us not forget these acts and expressions of our greatness.

                Thank you for your continued prayers, words and acts of support.  It has been this support that has carried the government, and me personally, thus far.  Again, thank you and may God continue to bless the United States.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “HE WANTS ME TO WHAT?”  Tolebridge picked up the chair in the interview room and hurled it against the wall.  Several Federal Marshals raced into the room, as the defendant picked up the chair and sat in it.  Seeing that everything in the room was calm, the Marshals left the room.

                “Those are his conditions.  He is offering you a chance to avoid the execution table.  He will let you live.”

                “Live?  Spending the remainder of my life at Guantanamo as a man without a country?  That is living?”

                “I think the Guantanamo bit is a bluff; but for the rest, yes.  Or would you rather let this play out and have the executioner stick a needle in your arm?  And that is what will happen, and there is no way to stop it short of a mistrial.”

                “So if I am to live, I must tell the world that I am a traitor and let them strip me of my citizenship?”

                “Yes.  We had a chance before, but now that they have the video recording, you don’t have a prayer.  Or perhaps a prayer is all you do have.”

Tolebridge paced back and forth in the room for about five minutes; pounding the table each time he passed.

                “This is so wrong.  I should be President.  I prepared my entire life for that office.  I should be President.”

                “What is your answer, John?”

                “I don’t know?”

*     *     *     *     *

Agnew was back in the office.  Normally he spent his Saturday mornings playing basketball at the nearby high school gym; the school opened the gym for pickup games to encourage youths to be off the streets.  On his desk was Cassis’ laptop computer and a folder of emails that had been recovered from the hard drive; proof that nothing is ever really deleted.  Across from him sat Mike Perkins.

                “Ron, you plan on having the Sheikh tell Cassis to tell us the Sheikh’s identity?”

                “Yes.  You’ve read through these emails.”  Agnew opened the folder and started reading them:

                                “Once we have accomplished our goal, let us tell the world who we are.  The shadows                                    are only necessary to protect us while our actions are in their infancy.”

                                “We will have nothing to fear when we are one.  The world will tremble when they find                                  themselves at Allah’s feet and beg his mercy.”

                                “My faithful Colonel, we are a breath away from success. “

                “Mike, he has read all these emails he knows exactly what they say.  ‘The Sheikh’ is arrogant.  He wants people to know who he is and what he has done.  The only difference between him and bin Ladin is that ‘the Sheikh’ is patient.  We need to give Cassis the go ahead to tell the world.”

                “Cassis is in custody and he has spoken with his embassy.”

                “But he is also incommunicado.  They don’t know where he is.  The last time he could have checked his email was Wednesday morning.  He didn’t talk to his embassy until Thursday morning.  They didn’t spend much time with him and there has been no way anything could be relayed to him since.  He hasn’t had access to any news.  He has no idea what really has been going on since his arrest”

                “So if we control his outgoing emails and insert our email amongst those he hasn’t read yet, you think we can bluff him into revealing the identity?”

                “Yes, we know everything in his inbox.  We insert what we need and then let him check his email as a humanitarian gesture, and perhaps we get lucky.”

                “And this is legal?”

                “Yes, we aren’t using our email to convict him; we simply are giving him the opportunity to tell us who the Sheikh is.”

                “Then, let’s do it.”

*     *     *     *     *

The sun was low over the Mediterranean and Roy Grant, eagle scout extraordinaire, was about to light a fire in the fire pit.  It lit and then proceeded to cause a cloud of smoke to hover over the deck.

                “Alan, get those matches away from Grant.”

                “Roy, did you get those matches from Al-Karzah?”

                “All I did was light the fire.”

Coughing and laughing could be heard by the Mossad agents who ran to the deck to ‘protect’ their charges.  Finally, the smoke cleared and the three sat in the cool breeze and watched the fire consuming the wood.

                “Director, everything we have points to Abbud.”  Hawkins stared at the flames as he talked.  “Let us assume for the moment that he is this Sheikh.  His children are his prophets declaring his teachings which provoked the unrest.  He oversees the military force.  He was one of the men convincing the Afghani parliament to accept the terms to bring peace to the area.  He has close ties to the President of Iran.”

                “And now we hear that he was trying to get his soldiers into Iraq.”  Grant was remembering the report they received that afternoon.  “He really doesn’t like being told no, does he?”

In the Mossad report, Abbud bin Al-Karzah led a contingent of clerics, scholars, and dignitaries from Pakistan and Afghanistan to meet with the Iraqi Parliament.  After making their presentation, the Parliament and President thanked them and advised them they were considering asking the United States or the UN to assist.  After several hours of trying to persuade them to accept their offer, Al-Karzah lost his temper, saying that the Iraqis were fools who ‘didn’t deserve the peace of Allah’ and that ‘he’ wouldn’t tolerate the continuance of the western intervention in the region.

Asaf Blum had arrived for the evening campfire armed with another gift of wine from the Mossad Director.

                “What have I missed?”  Asaf handed the bottle to Huntington. 

                “Going over your recent report.  Roy was trying to smoke us out and Alan was trying to put the situation into further perspective.”  Huntington answered as he admired the evenings offering.

                “I simply tried to start the fire.  Use a match, go to jail.”  Both Huntington and Hawkins were laughing while Blum had an expression of confusion on his face.  “Do you think he is the Sheikh, or just supposing?”  Roy was looking at Alan, who finally broke his gaze on the fire.

                “I say he is.  He is in a very powerful position, and didn’t handle the rejection by the Iraqis very well, as if it was a personal affront to him.  The Iraqis weren’t rejecting an offer, they were rejecting him.  Remember his statement in the heat of anger, ‘I won’t tolerate the continued imperial intervention of the west in the lands of Allah’.  Not the protestors, but ‘I’.”

                “So Al-Karzah is seeking to rule the region?”

                “Why not?  He has immense influence with the President.  Let’s assume he is the power behind the President.  As the military leader of the IDF, he controls Afghanistan and Pakistan.  If he can lay claim to Iraq, consider what he would control.  A military force that could, in a short time, cause great challenges to any opposing force; and let’s not forget Pakistan’s nuclear power.  The combined oil wealth of Iran and Iraq would rival that of Saudi Arabia.  And the extensive influence to call the shots in the region.”

                “But he would need an infrastructure to support his realm.  Such a political authority would have to be based in and on their religion.  He would have to deal with religious factions that could oppose him.  How could he hold power over such an explosive region?”

                “Asaf has brought up a valid point.  It’s not enough to set yourself up as the head.  You need the ability to hold on to the power.”  Huntington looked at Hawkins, “Alan, how would you do it?”

                “I would resort to the historic method.  A kingdom divided into smaller entities ruled by a prince.  I would establish a Congress or Council that the princes would be members of.  That way they are able to fully exercise their power, and I could still control them.  I would establish a cleric council to emphasis the common doctrines of Islam while deemphasizing the unwanted doctrines.  And I would blur the territorial lines in the military, thus no one serves in their own country.  That way their loyalty is to me and not their homelands.”

                “Does he have a plan?”

                “Of course he does, Roy.  He is arrogant and already sees himself as Caliph.  He just needs to put those phases into play.”

                “But don’t forget the hunger for power.”  Asaf has seen his share of power players, all with their eye on Israel.  “He won’t be content with what he has; he will want more.  He will need to swallow up the rest of the region and then move north into central Asia.  And how is he going to support this kingdom of his?  Economically, all he has is oil which he would most likely seize as a national asset.  And there is no telling how long such an asset would remain of value.  The United States could meet their domestic needs internally, and I doubt Russia and China would pay the inflated prices.  There would need to be some industrial development, and that means raw resources; so more land would need to be taken.”

                “This is starting to sound like the years just before World War II.”  Huntington was slowly shaking his head.  “And let’s not forget that he had James Hart murdered.  Sheikh or not, this man is playing a dangerous game.  Either we huddle and defend or we strike him hard and fast and leave a huge hole in the ground.”

All eyes returned to the dancing flames as the delicious beverage was enjoyed.  The United States and Israel do not huddle.  Everyone was thinking the same thing.  How huge a hole is going to be left in the ground?

*     *     *     *     *

Some distance away in the suburbs of Tel Aviv, Moshe David sat in front of a fire in his study sipping wine with his confidant, Alf Guiron.

                “This Al-Karzah is enlarging the skirts of Iran.  He controls Afghanistan and a nuclear Pakistan.  With Pakistan, does Iran really need to continue its nuclear program?”

                “No, but they will.  And with Pakistan supporting them, who can stop them.  We must find a way to break this Persian Empire.”

                “Alf, how fragile is this union?”

                “Are you going to poke the hornets’ nest without the Lion?  That would be unwise.  The Americans are here working with us.  Huntington is here, and they are working to resolve this.”

                “I am placing the security of our people in the hands of the United States.  But I must talk to the Lion directly.  I must know what he is going to do.  I know what I would do if I were in his shoes, but I need to know what he is going to do.”

                “Moshe, let me talk to Huntington.  Perhaps we can draw the Lion out through him.”

*     *     *     *     *

Sunday morning, Agnew entered an interrogation room at the Alexandria facility.  Already seated at the table was Cassis.

                “Good morning, Colonel.  We have not heard anything further from your embassy or from General Al-Karzah.”

                “Then I have nothing to say.”  Cassis gave Agnew a look of defiance.  The look changed to one of questioning as Agnew pulled a black laptop from his briefcase.

                “I am sorry to hear that, Colonel.”  Ron placed the laptop on the table in front of Cassis.  “This is your laptop and we have been told that we cannot restrict your access to your email.  You cannot send any without review, but you can at least read your inbox.” 

Agnew’s phone rang.

                “Agnew”

                “We have the signal.”

                “WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE HUNG HIMSELF?  HE WAS ON A SUICIDE WATCH.”

Cassis’ eyes went wide, as Agnew turned his back.

                “YOU GUYS AT THE BUREAU ARE JUST A BUNCH OF PUNKS IN CHEAP SUITS.  WHO GAVE HIM A SHEET?”

Agnew walked out of the room and stepped out of sight of Cassis.  Cassis sat staring at the computer screen, debating whether or not to check his email and possible risk sending an update of his condition while Agnew was out of the room.  Unable to resist the temptation, he logged into his account and started scanning the inbox.  There was one from the General.

                Subject: Success

                                Iraq is now ours.  The will of Allah is being made known to all.  Now the sword is in our                                   hand and we can strike with strength and confidence.  There is no longer a need to act                                  from the shadows.  We must declare to the world what Allah has done and who the                                  strongman is that makes the infidels tremble before Allah.  You may declare my name    and that Allah will reach out and strike any who foolishly oppose us.  We will punish                                 who we wish when we desire and they will not be able to stand before us.

                                May Allah embrace you for your faithfulness, my son.

                                A AK

                “Ron, he read it.  And what’s with the cheap suits bit”

Agnew walked to the door and started to open it.

                “LOOK FOOL, THAT WAS A PRIMARY WITNESS.”

Agnew stepped away from the door and back out of sight.  Cassis pressed reply and started typing:

                                Congratulations, sir.  I will be honored to tell the world the wonderful acts Allah has                                        worked through you.

                                Your humble son,  C

                “Ron, he just replied.  You are a dangerous poker player.  And you worry about playing against me?”

Agnew walked back to the door, opened it and walked in.

                “Listen, when I’m done with you, you’ll be lucky if the Director lets you shine his shoes.”  Agnew angrily closed his phone and tossed it on his briefcase.  “Colonel, sorry about that interruption, you must know what it’s like working with incompetent subordinates.”

                “Yes, it is a problem every commander must deal with.”

                “Colonel, do you wish to avail yourself of the opportunity to check your email?  I hope we hear soon from your embassy or your commanding officer.  The lack of response is quite frustrating.  We know you are an important person.  We know the charges you face are serious and need to be remedied.”

                “Thank you, I will.”  Cassis began reading his other emails.  A few minutes later he shut the laptop.

                “Looks like you are having a rough day.  Who hung himself?”

                “It was a mafia boss.  With his testimony, we were going to cripple organized crime all the way up and down the east coast.”

                “That sounds like a tough break.”  Cassis waited a moment, as if he was in thought.  “I just learned who the Sheikh is.  The Sheikh is Abbud bin Al Karzah.  I learned his identity in an email from the embassy legation.  You have no idea what it is like suddenly learning that you work for someone really important.  Like your Jimmy Olson learning that Karl Kent is Superman.”

                “Clark Kent?  Yes I can see how that might feel.  This is important news; please excuse me while I inform my supervisor.”

Cassis sat with a big smile on his face, as Agnew left the room.  Foolish infidels think they are in control; just wait until the Sheikh announces himself to the world.

Agnew stepped out the door and entered the next room.

                “You got it, Mike?”

                “We got it all.  Now what?”

                “I’ll tell the President and relay this info to Langley, and then we go for the indictments.”

 

 

XXIX

 

                "Moshe, my friend, have you been poking at the hornets' nests with a stick lately?"

                "No, my friend, I am patiently awaiting that adventure with you."

                "Good.  I don't want to find out that you went off leaving me behind.  I would feel left out."

                "Joshua, how are you doing?  I've been concerned about you.  Leading is stressful enough without the additional weight of battle and treachery being thrust upon us.  Is your leg getting stronger?"

                "Thank you for your concerns.  I am doing better."  I need to wean myself from that cane.  "Moshe, I understand that you have some concerns regarding the activity in Pakistan and Afghanistan.  Has Director Huntington kept you informed on what we have learned?"

                "Yes, we have been kept well informed.  We are concerned that they may strike before we can act."

                "They are not prepared to strike yet.  They must first consolidate power and overcome the opposition of Iraq.  And to strike you, they must strike us as well.  We know who they are now, and what they are doing.  We, you and I, will deal with these men and will bring balance back to the region.  I still need your patience; the matter is complex and involves the people of both our nations.  But we are there and are ready to stand beside you and defend you as needed, should they foolishly try to harm you."

                "I trust you, Joshua.  I trust you with my people, because you have earned my trust.  And I will sleep well tonight, having spoken with you.  Can you share your plans in dealing with the hornets?"

                “Our task will not be easy.  We will need to overcome the political atmosphere with minimal involvement.  And we will have to deal with those behind this as soon as we have confirmation.  But do not worry, we will be able to act before they can strike.  And Moshe, do not worry about their plans for Israel; Sh'ma Yisrael Adonai Eloheinu Adonai Eḥad.”

Mitchell waited for David’s response.  “Joshua, my son, thank you.  My heart is lifted.  May His face shine upon you.  Good bye.”

Joshua said good bye and pressed disconnect on his cellphone.  Standing, gazing out a window from the residence, he suddenly felt so alone.  Not willing to remain inside another moment, Stetson stepped out of the residence and down the stairway, hearing soft voices announcing his movement.  As he moved down the stairway, he noticed his leg feeling much stronger.

He made his way out to the colonnade and began walking towards the Oval Office.  As he approached the Office doors, the Marines saluted and Mitchell stopped, came to attention and returned the salute.

                “At ease, Marines.”

The Marines relaxed enough to give the impression that they no longer were at attention without not being at attention.  The President extended his hand and the Marines shook it.

                “Captain, where are you from?”

                “Chicago, Sir.”

                “What do you remember most about Chicago?”

                “Sir, it would be the biting cold coming off of Lake Michigan; that is a cold that can chill you to the bone.”

                “You must be a Bulls fan.”

                “Yes Sir.”

                “Sorry to hear that.  At least you aren’t a Celts fan.”

                “Lieutenant, where are you from?

                “I’m from Boston, Sir.”  The Lieutenant stood embarrassed.”

                “You’re not messing with me, are you Lieutenant?”

                “No Sir.  Sir, are you a Lakers fan?”

                “Of course.”

                “Thought so, sir.  I guess I’ll be a Lakers fan for the next two years.”

                “That’s the worst mistake you can make, Lieutenant.  If a Boston boy isn’t loyal to the Celts, how can I expect him, as a Marine, to be loyal to me?”

                “Sir, with all due respect, the Celts are going to eat you Lakers alive.”

                “We’ll see Lieutenant.  It has been good talking to you, Marines.  Mitchell shook their hands and stepped back.  The Captain and Lieutenant returned to attention and the three exchanged salutes again.

Stetson turned and started across the lawn, walking slowly.  Part way across Joshua noticed an agent shadowing his movements.  Mitchell paused for a moment, walked several steps, and then paused again.  The agent mimicked his movements, never closing the distance between them.  For a brief moment Stetson considered taking off in a run for the nearest fence just to see what would happen, but then decided to wait until his leg would be strong enough to get him over the fence.

Joshua looked at the rose bushes and noticed that they needed to be pruned.  He remembered the Sunday afternoon strolls he took with Connie in the Garden.  They would hold hands with frequent pauses to kiss.  After several visits, Jim Hart began to refer to the Rose Garden as Lovers Lane.

Stetson moved to the Gazebo and began to weep.

                “Connie, I miss you so much.  So much is expected of me; people telling me to do this or do that.  ‘Be sure to smile and wave.’  I’m having trouble figuring out how to smile and wave and weep at the same time.

                Remember that time Charlie Hoest called me at home because he didn’t like the operations plan I wrote for the Brash demonstrations?  How I didn’t have enough contingencies written into it?  If he had seen the plans for North Korea, I think he would have had a heart attack.  It filled a three inch binder.

                Constance, North Korea really scared me.  That fool over there has threatened to push the button so many times; it would have been easy to ignore him.  But I could imagine him wondering what we would do if he actually did pushed it.  On the Department, we would respond with a guaranteed overkill response.  The same response in Korea would have been devastating.  The estimates were at least 100,000 dead the first week.  The only way we could have won a war there would have been to destroy the southern portion of the North and commit to an all-out offensive in the North to draw their army back.  I don’t know if I could have handled the body count.

                My love, I’m not sure I can do this job without you.  You were my sounding board and advisor, the balm for my aches and worries.  I miss your voice; how you would sing and stroke my forehead when I was stressed.  You would tell me everything would be alright, and I’d believe you.

I think Mike might be considering leaving because of all the ‘what ifs’ and ‘how abouts’.  He actually asked how you survived so many years with me.  Then Mary slammed him with a cushion off the couch.  I would have felt bad for him if I wasn’t laughing so hard.

                Babe, I really miss you.”

*     *     *     *     *

Sunday morning, the sky was a bright blue and the air had a bite to it.  Stetson was still feeling a bit stir crazy in the Residence.

                "Castle Command, this is the President."

                "Yes Sir."

                "I want to go for a walk, somewhere with people.  I know my being in public like this is going to drive you nuts, but I need to get outside."

                "Is there somewhere in particular you want to go?"

                "Maybe to see Abe?"

                "Are you ready to go, sir?"

                "More than ready."

                "Sir, we will call your cell when we are set to go."

                "Thank you."

Ten minutes later, the President was being escorted to his limo.  Another ten minutes and the convoy was in the parking lot at the drop off zone.  The detail deployed and then the President stepped out of the limo.  Next to the vehicle, Stetson just stood there holding his cane.  He was squinting even though the brim of his hat shaded his eyes.  An agent handed the President a pair of sunglasses.

                "You need these, agent."

                "No sir, I always carry a spare pair."  The agent pulled a second pair out and put them on.

                "Thank you."  Stetson put the glasses on and began to follow the crowd towards the shrine. 

As Mitchell approached the shrine he looked around at the people.  At first people were focused on the reflecting pool or the building, but then visitors started to stare at him and the agents.  I'm out here with people, real people.  I can't hide behind the security.  The President changed direction and walked to the nearest group of people.

                "Good morning.  It's a beautiful day for a walk."  The President spoke to a family.

                "Yes it is Mr. President." 

                "Where are you from?  This question was directed to the 10 year old.

                "Savannah, Georgia."

                "Have you seen Mr. Lincoln yet?"

                "No, we are waiting our turn.  Are you really the President?"

                "Yes I am.  May I visit Mr. Lincoln with you?"

The young boy looked at his parents who nodded yes.  The young boy turned to Mitchell excitedly.

                "Yes!"

                "Thank you.  My name is Joshua. What is your name?"  Mitchell extended his hand to shake the boys.  The boy took the President's and shook.

                "My name is Gabriel."

                "It's good to meet you Gabriel.  Could you introduce me to your parents?"

                "Okay.  This is my dad ..."

*     *     *     *     *

Back in the Residence, Joshua relaxed with his feet up.  He had already called Jax and Sissy, and listened to the grandkids talk about their week.  In the past, Mitchell would occasionally get the urge to putter in the kitchen, which always meant some creation would be cooked up and then two hours of cleaning by Constance.  It’s been some time since he destroyed a kitchen.

Joshua walked through the kitchen door to the island and started pulling bowls out.  He was in the mood for savory potato balls " balls of mashed potatoes with a savory meat center, rolled in panko breadcrumbs and baked.  As Mitchell peeled the potatoes and began to prepare the ingredients, he thought about Connie walking into the kitchen and playfully making a fuss over the ‘mess’.  Tears began to roll down his cheek.

Shaking his head, the President shifted his thoughts and began to remember his morning outing; walking with Gabriel and his parents, talking about Georgia, having his picture taken with the family.  When they finally made their way into the memorial and stood before ‘Mr. Lincoln’, Joshua asked Gabriel what he knew about Abe.

                “He was an important President.  He didn’t go to school and he made people laugh.  And someone shot him, like they shot you.”

Joshua and Gabriel sat down along a wall, and the detail circled the family, providing protection and privacy.  “He was special because he did what he believed was right, instead of doing what others wanted him to do.  It wasn’t easy; it started a war.  And because he did what was right, a lot of people were upset.  And even though there was a war, he didn’t stop doing what was right.”

                “Mr. Joshua, are you a President who is going to do what’s right, like Mr. Lincoln.”

Mitchell looked the boy in the eyes.  “Yes Gabriel, I am.”

The group left the Memorial and stood outside.  The family said their good byes to the President, and Mitchell made his way to the reflecting pool, shaking hands and posing with visitors for pictures.  At the pool, Joshua Mitchell stood and stared at his reflection.  Yes Gabriel, I’m going to do what’s right.

An hour and a half later, the President of the United States was in his recliner, watching ‘Young Mr. Lincoln’ and eating potato balls.

*     *     *     *     *

Monday morning Mary Johnson arrived to find the Oval Office open.  She was getting used to finding the door open so early.  She stepped inside and found the President at his desk going through a ‘short’ stack of folders.

                "Good morning, Boss."

                "Good morning, Mary.  Did you have a good weekend?"

                "Yes, we went on a picnic.  Do you want me to make a fresh pot of coffee?"

                "Please."

Mary returned a short time later with a service cart from the dining room: a pot of coffee, a pitcher of orange juice, and a tray of scrambled eggs, bacon, and potato wedges.    It was learned quickly that Mitchell considered a cup of coffee as breakfast, and the staff knew they couldn't afford a President with low blood sugar.  She hadn’t noticed the basket of golden brown balls sitting on the desk this morning.  As Mary was rolling the cart into the Office, Mike Rodgers joined them.

                "G'morning, Boss."

                "Hi Mike, have a good weekend?"

                "Yes.  We spent the day at the beach.  And I see you had a good weekend also or at least a good day yesterday."

The President had a questioning look on his face.

                "Why do you say that?"

Rodgers turned the television on in the Office.  Immediately, footage of the President was playing. 

                "Every channel I turned to this morning, they were showing video of you and a family from Georgia.  And on every station on the radio they were talking about the ‘Presidential sighting’.  They have footage of you shaking the boy's hand - my favorite, and you standing before Lincoln with the family.  There was also footage of you shaking hands with other groups.  That boy thinks you are some kind of super hero."

                "I was going stir crazy upstairs, so I went for an outing at the Memorial.  I needed to be around regular people.  I was walking by myself encircled by the detail and realized I was still in a bubble.  I headed to the nearest group and met this family.  They were kind enough to let me tag along with them."

                "Well, you look refreshed this morning."

                "Thanks."

                “Boss, what are these?  Something special Andre fixed for you?”

                “Try one.  You too, Mary.”

Mitchell stood and walked to the cart to pour some coffee and fix himself a small plate of food.  When he turned around, Rodgers had a potato ball in each hand and was shoving one in his mouth, like a little kid.

                “Rodgers, really?  What happened to all the self-restraint you’ve espoused?”  Stetson and Mary just stood there and laughed as little Mikey stood by the desk looking sheepishly.

                “But Boss, they’re really good”.

*     *     *     *     *

John Lincoln sat at his table in the court.  The usual law books normally seen on the table have been replaced by a DVD.  At the defense table, King and Tolebridge sat.  Tolebridge had always appeared confident if not arrogant when he sat in the courtroom; today he looked sickly, as if any moment he would vomit.

The bailiff called the courtroom to order as the Judge entered.  Judge Shepherd took his seat on the bench.  Scanning the contestants and their tables spoke volumes.  Lincoln calmly sat at the prosecutors table with just the DVD sitting on the table.  On the defense’s side, the table was also empty and the defendant looked like the condemned staring at his firing squad.

                "Mr. Lincoln, Mr. King, are you prepared to continue?"

                "Yes, your Honor, the People are prepared to continue."

                "No, your Honor."  King stood like a pillar about to be toppled and broken.  "My client wishes to change his plea."

                "Mr. Tolebridge, please stand."  Tolebridge stood; the Judge continued, "How do you plead?"

                "Your Honor, my client pleads guilty in accordance with the conditions set forth by the People."

                "Mr. Lincoln, what are the conditions the People set forth?"

                "Your Honor, the People of the United States will accept a plea of guilty to the charge of Treason.  In exchange for the plea, the People will not pursue the death penalty; instead we will accept a sentence of life and a day, to be served at a federal maximum security facility.  The People also ask that the defendant be stripped of his United States citizenship."

                "Mr. Tolebridge, do you make your plea in understanding and acceptance of these sentencing terms?'

                "Yes, your Honor."

                "Mr. Lincoln, what is the People's position concerning the other charges?"

                "Your Honor, concerning the other charges, the People of the United States accept the pleas, and ask that the sentences be served concurrently consecutive of the sentence of Treason."

                "Mr. Tolebridge, do you make your pleas in understanding and acceptance of these sentencing terms?

                "Yes, your Honor."

                "Mr. Tolebridge, in consideration of the terms offered by the People of the United States, and the acceptance of said terms by the defendant, this court accepts your plea of guilty.  Mr. Tolebridge, this court finds you guilty of the crime of Treason against the United States and you are hereby sentenced to a term of life and one day in a maximum security facility, and are hereby stripped of your United States citizenship."

                "Mr. Tolebridge, in consideration of the terms offered by the People of the United States, and the acceptance of said terms by the defendant, the court accepts your plea of guilty. Mr. Tolebridge, this court finds you guilty of the crime of Sedition against the United States and you are hereby  ..."

*     *     *     *     *

                “Mr. President.”

                “Yes Mr. Thinbold.”

                “Sir, I am calling to advise you that John Tolebridge just pled guilty to all charges.”

                “And what is the sentence?”

                “On the charge of Treason, he pled guilty in exchange for a life sentence without the possibility of parole; officially the sentence is life and a day.  He also agreed to have his citizenship stripped from him.  The other charges are to be served concurrently, starting day two after the life sentence.”

                “So we are going to have his remains with us for a long time.”

                “Yes sir.  Where do you want him to serve his sentence?”

                “What are our options?”

                “Allenwood, Canaan, and Lewisburg; or we can send him to Supermax in Colorado.”

                “Too bad Guantanamo isn’t an option.  Let’s go with Colorado.”

                “Florence, Colorado it is.”

                “Thanks for the good news, James.”

                “It’s my pleasure, Mr. President.”           

*     *     *     *     *

Monday afternoon, Ronald Agnew entered the United States Federal Courthouse and proceeded to the fifth floor, to the office of the Presiding Justice of the Circuit Court. 

                "Your Honor, I ask to convene a grand jury to obtain a true bill of indictment against those involved in the assassination of James Hart, President of the United States, Carolyn Hart, and Constance Mitchell."

                "I’ve been anticipating your request, Mr. Agnew.  When would you like to convene the grand jury?"

                "Is tomorrow too soon?"

The Presiding Justice checked his calendar.

                "We can accommodate your request.  We will see you tomorrow morning at 9."

                "Thank you, your Honor."

*     *     *     *     *

Pete Phillips was sitting in his office at the media center.  A knock on the door drew Phillips’ attention to a man and woman standing there.  Pete walked to the door and welcomed his guests.  Marshall Wallace, a long time reporter with CNS was nearing retirement.  Having interviewed numerous Presidents and World Leaders, he was highly respected amongst his peers in the shark tank.  Condell Thomas on the other hand was relatively new to the world of journalism.  She was sent to the White House by ABS after the previous two were banned by the government for their participation in falsifying stories several years earlier.

                “Marshall, Condell, the President has agreed to an on air interview and is willing to participate in a joint interview with both of you.”

                “A joint interview?  How does he suggest we do that?”  Wallace was totally befuddled.

                “We could take turns with questions.  Kind of like that old TV show, um, ‘What’s my Line?’.  A panel of three or four persons took turns asking questions.  We could do the same.  Add into it questions directly from the public via Twitter or Facebook.”  Thomas had the tiger by the tail while Wallace was scratching his head.

                “Pete, what happens if we don’t agree to the joint interview?”

Phillips reached into his pocket and pulled out a quarter and dropped it on the desk.  “Marshall, I flip the coin and the loser returns to their desk.”

                “How much time do we have to prepare for the interview?”  Wallace had his pad out jotting notes.        

*     *     *     *     *

Mitchell was finishing up his notes on the various calls he made.  He had his 'dance therapy' session in 20 minutes.

                "Boss, you have Ron Agnew on the phone."

                "Put him through.  Ron, how is it going?"

                "Mr. President, I am advising you that the Grand Jury of the United States will convene tomorrow morning in regards to the matter of the Assassination of James Hart."

Mitchell didn't say anything; he simply closed his eyes tight.

                "Once we have the indictments, Mr. President, we can try them."

                "Ron, what about Al-Karzah."

                "Sir, unless they step into the United States, they are untouchable."

                "How certain of guilt can we be with an indictment."

                "Sir, an indictment simply says that I showed cause to prosecute them.  Based on the witnesses and evidence I have, they should be executed.  Unfortunately, the moment the indictments are opened and I try them in absentia, they will go underground like bin Laden did."

                "Ron, I don't mean to make your job harder, but I am about to.  Do you have an assistant?"

                "Yes sir."

                "How competent is he to present a capital case?"

                "He can do an excellent job sir."

                "I want him to try Al-Karzah in absentia, in my court.  I will convene a jury consisting of the Congressional leadership.  I will sit as judge."

                "Sir, you are not impartial.  And this could call into question the balance of power between the branches of government?"

                "Ron, I must report the findings on the assassination to Congress.  Short of your full report, I can make advisement verbally.  By means of a trial, I can advise and determine extent of guilt.  If it is as you say, that you have more than sufficient evidence to execute them, then your assistant should obtain a guilty verdict from Congress.  Once I have such an indictment and verdict, I can act. I want them dead, but I also must stand before God.  I must be justified in my actions.  I cannot and will not execute out of anger; the moment I do, I betray the Constitution and the nation.  Thus I am judge and not jury."

                "I understand sir; I have no objection with the overall concept, but I am still uncomfortable with the executioner being the judge.”

                “Do you have any suggestions for a devil’s advocate?”

                “John Lincoln.”

                “Can your assistant hold his own against Lincoln?”

                “I could with what I have.  Pete should be able to.”

                “I need to make some calls.  Tell Pete and John to get ready.  I will call back with the court date.”

                “Yes sir.”

Mitchell hung up the phone and then punched a button.

                “Yes Boss?”

                “Mary, I need a conference call to Speaker Pickerill and President Pro Tem Perkins.

                “Yes Boss.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Jackson, Stacey, this is Joshua.”

                “Joshua, it must be important since this is a conference call.”

                “It is Jackson.  I am requesting the Congressional Leadership to meet with me here at the White House.  I need to advise you of the status of the investigation into the assassination.  And due to some unique circumstances, I will need the Leadership to act as the jury in the matter.”

                “Act as the jury?”

                “Stacey, the ringleaders are Iranians, in Iran.  They are behind the assassination and some other matters in the Middle East.  If we try them in absentia, we have bin Laden again.  The lead investigator, Agnew, is about to take it to the grand jury.  We are going to review the investigation and try the ringleaders here at the White House.  If, after reviewing the investigation, you determine that they are guilty and the grand jury returns indictments, I will act.”

                “Will you take them out?”

                “It will depend on the case that can be made on their behalf.”

                “Josh, when do you want to start?

                “Wednesday morning?”

                “We’ll see you Wednesday morning.”

Mitchell hung up and then buzzed his secretary.  “Mary, get me Huntington on phone.”

                “Yes sir.”

*     *     *     *     *

Huntington, Hawkins, and Grant were busy packing for their return trip to Washington in the morning.  The trip to Israel had been fruitful.  Huntington’s cell phone rang.  He looked at the caller ID and then thought he might be packing too soon.

                “Huntington.”

                “Preston, this is Mitchell.  What is happening with the Sheikh and the revival of the Persian Empire?”

                “The confirmation from the Attorney General’s office has assured our cousins here that we aren’t tilting at windmills.  We’ve been strategizing on how to disrupt the empire.”

                “Whatever strategy you choose to deploy, I don’t want Al-Karzah tipped off that we know his identity.  We need to act without using his name.  The longer he thinks we don’t know, the more time we have to take care of things at this end.  When it goes down, I want to act on my terms, not his.”

                “Whatever we come up with Sir, we need to act soon.  The elections in Pakistan are only a couple weeks away and that doesn’t leave us much time, and if we lose Pakistan, the rest will tumble to Al-Karzah.  And so you know, the cousins want to participate.  They smell blood in the water and the Prime Minister has mentioned a hunting trip with you.”

                “More like running head long into a field of hornets’ nests.  There must be some way to safely influence the elections: we want to preserve the governments and not see them overthrown.  And it has to be done through the electorate, not by force otherwise we play into Al-Karzah’s hands.  We need an elections guru.”  Mitchell paused for a moment.  “Preston, hold on for a moment.”  Joshua put Huntington on hold, pushed a speed dial and when Mike Rodgers answered, Mitchell told Mike to report to the Office immediately.

                “Preston, I’m putting you on speaker; Preston, I have Mike Rodgers here.  When I met him as a Congressman, he was an aide to Jack Tilton of Pennsylvania and ran several successful campaigns.”

                “Hi Preston, what do you need.”

                “Mike, we need your electoral expertise.  How would you keep an incumbent in office in an environment of change?”

                “How much change are we talking about, Preston.  In my experience, it’s pretty hard to unseat an incumbent because most people don’t like change.  Unless the guy politically shot himself in the foot, he should be safe.”

                “We are talking about Pakistan and Afghanistan.”

                “That’s a lot of change; okay.  First, the incumbent will need to embrace the change as a candidate; at least enough to keep the votes.  I mean, really embrace the issues.  Second, they will need to focus on the opponents’ weaknesses; their lack of political savvy, components of their plan that are extreme or dangerous.  And don’t forget the money.  They need a war chest.”

                “So the incumbents need to steal the oppositions thunder.  How do they accomplish that when the opposition owns the media?”

                “They go it the old fashioned way.  They make speeches in the public square, knock on doors, and hold town hall meetings.  Even if they had access to the media, the voters also want the personal touch.  The voters want to know they are actually being represented and that the candidate is personally concerned about their issues.”

                “Sounds like an uphill battle.”

                “It’s a confirmation vote, correct?”

                “Does that make a difference?”

                “The more candidates running, the easier it will be for the incumbent to hold his seat.  They just need to apply as much of what we’ve discussed as possible, the biggest key being the face to face meetings with the voters.”

                “Preston, get political advisors into Pakistan to work with the incumbents, and I will make some calls.  I doubt the Presidents are seeing what is really going on.  They were focused on the unrest; they were influenced by the quick peace, now they are worried about losing their jobs.”

Rodgers stood and started towards the door, sensing that he was finished.  Halfway to the door Mike stopped and turned towards Mitchell, who gave him thumbs up and continued with the conversation.

                “How is Iraq holding up, Preston?”

                “They are holding their own.  They are experiencing some terrorist attacks now.  We suspect Al-Karzah is behind them and I wouldn’t be surprised if he has an alliance with Al Qaeda, the Muslim Brotherhood, or Hamas.  He doesn’t deal well with rejection.”

                “I’ll make sure that State contacts them.  Is there enough going on there for State to issue a travelers warning for the region?  And do you believe the Embassy to be secure?”

                “The Embassy should be safe with reinforcement; we don’t want a repeat of 1979.  And there is enough justification to issue the travelers warnings. 

“Alright, I will take care of that.  Preston, I need you to initiate surveillance on Al-Karzah.”

                “Which one?”

                “All of them.”

                “What is the goal: abduction or execution?”

                “That is yet to be determined.”

                “Alright, Mr. President, we will initiate surveillances and I will prep some options for you.”

Stetson hung up the phone and called out for Mary once more; “Mary get me State and Defense on a conference call and please let Miss Suzuki know that I will be late.”  A minute and a half later, the Presidents phone rang.

                “Todd, Frank, I am concerned about security in the Middle East.  Todd, I want travel warnings issued for the region, especially Iraq.  I also want security beefed up at all embassies in the region, especially Iraq.  Frank, I want as many Marines as possible at the Iraq embassy.”

                “Sir, what are you hearing to elevate the region to a travel warning?”

                “As we have been discussing in the security briefings, the political atmosphere in Pakistan and Afghanistan is shaky.  The entity behind the unrest in those countries is stirring the pot in Iraq.  Tensions are building and I don’t want a repeat of 1979 Iran.”

                “Mr. President, do you want a show of force moving the security forces in or do you want it done under the radar?”

                “Frank, move them in as quickly, but as quietly, as possible.  I want to hide as many Marines as possible at the embassy without anyone knowing.  I am all in favor of the element of surprise.”

                “I will fortify the Iraq embassy first and then will do Pakistan, Afghanistan, Saudi Arabia, Syria and Jordan.”

                “Sounds good, Frank.”

                “Sir, the travel warning will be issued within the hour.  I will advise the ambassadors of the impending staffing increase.  Would you object to me telling our allies of our concerns?  I can be vague on the details and can leave out the bit about increasing security levels.”

                “Good thinking, Todd.  Go ahead and make the calls.”

 

 

XXX

 

Early Tuesday morning, Joshua started his calls to the Middle East.  The first call was to Asif Abbas, President of Pakistan.

                “President Abbas, it is good to hear your voice.”

                “President Mitchell, it is good to hear yours as well.  How can I help you?”

                “President Abbas, I am concerned about what is happening in your country and in the region.  I have received reports concerning a possible undermining of your government.”

                “What exactly have you heard?”

                “Are you familiar with ‘the Sheikh’?”

                “Yes we are.  He espouses a unified Islam for the purposes of destroying Islam’s enemies.”

                “How do you feel about his philosophy?”

                “I have no objection to Islam’s enemies being destroyed.”

                “Would you object to your nuclear weapons in his hands?”

                “Yes I would.  What do you know, President Mitchell?”

                “The intelligence we have received indicates that the Sheikh is behind the protests in both your country and Afghanistan.  He controls the Islamic Defense Force.  The purpose of the riots, in part, was to influence your government; but for the most part, the riots were an excuse to be able to move his army into your country under the guise of peacekeeping.  Once in, he could then envelope your military under the control of the IDF, as has happened.”

                “Are you certain of this?”  Mitchell could hear the panic in his voice.

                “Yes, my friend.  His philosophy is a united Islam; united in religion, government, and military.  The ‘peacekeeping’ force that entered Afghanistan was a sizable force.  And yet the IDF force left in your country is also sizable.  For that to have happened, the IDF had to double in size.  Where did he get the new recruits?  We believe the ‘peacekeeping’ presence in Afghanistan is primarily Pakistani soldiers.”

                “So what will happen to our Parliament?”

                “The Sheikh is hoping your citizens will vote in fundamentalist Islamic candidates that he can control.  Once they are in place he will use the Parliaments he controls to change your laws, altering your government and establish himself as Caliph over the region.”

                “You are just saying these things for your own purposes.  We know how the United States works.”

                “President Abbas, I am certain you heard my speech to the United Nations.  I meant every word I said.  The United States is not in the business of imperial expansion; if we were, I wouldn’t have let the North Koreans off the hook so easily when I could have taken so much land and handed it over to the South.  And we have had plenty of opportunities to expand in the Middle East.  Iraq and Afghanistan are sovereign nations.  There is no puppet master pulling strings.”

                “What do I do?”

                “You just lead.  You embrace your people, and their concerns.  You denounce the influences of the Sheikh.  You go through with the confirmation vote of your members of Parliament.  You call for those members to be true to their constituents and to be true representatives.  You order your military to return to their bases and you order the IDF off those bases.  The IDF can set up camp in the desert.  And by all means, take control of your nuclear weapons.”

                “But if I do these things, they will say that I am being led by the West.”

                “You aren’t being led by anyone if you are doing what is right.  You were chosen to be President by the Pakistani people, so be their President.  You are to control the military, so control them.  Set the example for Parliament to follow.  And it starts with you taking your office back.  Tell the people what you are going to do and why you are going to do it.  Then do it.”

                “President Mitchell, thank you for your call.  If you learn who the Sheikh is, please tell me so we can deal with him.”

                “I am glad to have been of help to you.”

Mitchell hung up and then had a call placed through to the Afghani President.

*     *     *     *     *

Just before lunch, Mitchell’s phone rang.  “Boss, I have the Russian President on the phone for you.”

                “Go ahead and put him through, Mary.”  A moment later, the call was through.  “President Petrovich, how can I help you?”

                “Joshua Robert, you can start by calling me Grigori.”

                “Grigori, my friend, how can I help you?  Is there something that needs negotiating?”  Mitchell chuckled over the phone.

                “Joshua, that is not funny.  Afterwards, I was under a doctor’s treatment for stress.”

                “What can I do for you today?”

                “Your Secretary of State Williams has my Foreign Secretary pacing the floor now.  What is going on in the Middle East that has you so concerned?”

                “We suspect a possible terrorist group attempting a coup in the region in order to establish a revived Persian empire.  It was bloodless for the most part in Pakistan and Afghanistan, but now it’s turning violent in Iraq.  We are concerned that attempts may be made against us or our allies to weaken our official presences in the area.”

                “Is this group connected with the assassination of President Hart?”

                “Possibly, but we are still trying to sort things out.  We are hoping to have the matter settled soon.”

                “Joshua, my friend, how are you doing personally?”

                “I have good days and bad days, but basically each day I am improving.  And how is your grandson?”

                “Misha is a rascal.  Last night he discovered the unique sound an egg makes breaking on the kitchen floor when dropped while standing on the table.  Remember me pacing in the conference room?  That is my son, dealing with Misha.”

Mitchell was laughing.  “Grigori, all I can recommend is that you show your son compassion.”

                “Joshua, I still haven’t forgotten my lesson in frustration.  If there is anything I can do to assist you, don’t hesitate to call.”

                “Thank you, Grigori.”

*     *     *     *     *

Wednesday morning at 8, President Mitchell led the Vice President and the Congressional leadership into the Cabinet Room.  On the table were empty binders, one placed at each seat.  Mitchell took his seat at the center of the table.  The Speaker took the seat to the right of the Mitchell and the President Pro Tem on the left of the Vice President; the remaining members circled the table.  Opposite the President, Peter Schroeder and John Lincoln took their seats.

                “Ladies and gentlemen, all of you have been advised of the reason for this meeting.  For the prosecution, we have Peter Schroeder of the Attorney General’s office.  For the defense, we have John Lincoln also of the Attorney General’s office.  On the table is paper for notes, the notes you take are not to leave the room at this time.  This hearing will be conducted by open forum; any juror may question the legal councils.  Mr. Schroeder, we have empty binders on the table, what are their purposes?”

                “Mr. President, that is for the material each of you will be presented with.  I will hand the material out as we proceed.”

                “All right.  Mr. Lincoln, you understand the unique circumstances of these proceedings?

                “Yes Mr. President.”

                “Are there any questions or concerns before we begin?”

                “Mr. President, just to be clear, we are here to be formally advised of the progress to date of the investigation into the Assassination and to determine if grounds exist to prosecute foreign persons beyond the official reaches of the American judicial system?”

                “Mr. Speaker, that is correct.  Do you have any concerns regarding this?”

                “Mr. President, no concerns.  I just wanted everyone else to understand what exactly is happening here.”

                “If there are no further questions or concerns, we will begin.  We will dispense with opening remarks.  Mr. Schroeder, you may begin.”

Schroeder stood and walked to a stack of file boxes that were against the wall behind him.  Opening the first box, he lifted a pile of papers and returned to the table.

                “John, I know you are opposing me, but can you help me pass these out.  Otherwise we will be here until Christmas.  And take one for yourself.”

Lincoln took half the stack and the two worked their way around the table.  If only court could be this civil, thought Lincoln.

                “Ladies and gentlemen, each of you have been handed an index, a copy of the incident reports of the Secret Service, the Washington Metropolitan Police, the United States Capitol Police, and the Federal Bureau of Investigation.  The light red pages are a synopsis of the reports.  Each agencies report basically states the same details.  John, you have had an opportunity to review all the reports; do you have any objections to working from the synopsis?”

                “No objection, Pete.”

Everyone in the room turned to the indicated pages, with the exception of Mitchell who simply closed his eyes.  His pain radiated through the room.  When the President opened his eyes, he realized the awkward silence in the room.

                “Pete, continue.”

Schroeder placed a display board on an easel showing blow ups of the photos of the Presidential party on the Capitol steps.  Schroeder took 40 minutes, walking the ‘court’ through the incident.  With no questions or comments from the ‘jurors’ or Lincoln, Schroeder stepped to the stack and returned with a new set of handouts.  Pete and John passed them out and the ‘trial’ continued.

                “This set of inserts includes the transcripts of the interviews of Pedro Conception Gomez.  For the sake of brevity, I direct you again to the light red pages.  These pages reflect an outline of events and statements from the transcripts.  John how far were you able to get through the material?”

                “I was able to read through the bulk of the material.  If we reach a point I missed or haven’t reached yet, I will let you know.”

                “Alright, do you have any objection to the synopsis and outline?”

                “No I don’t.  Just for the record, it feels weird being the defense attorney in a grand jury.”

The President spoke up.

                “John, if there is something that needs to be challenged, speak up.  Their lives are in your hands.”

                “Don’t worry, sir.  I will definitely speak up if necessary.”  No pressure here!

                “If I may direct the courts attention to the synopsis and outline….”

*     *     *     *     *

Cameras were set up outside the sally port of the federal detention facility in Washington.  A black SUV was parked just outside the port.  Several custody officers walked a prisoner out to the waiting vehicle.  John Tolebridge, wearing a bulletproof vest over an orange jumpsuit, slowly walked with his hands cuffed to a waist chain.  Reporters yelled out questions for the ‘Speaker’.

The only person to respond was a federal agent from the US Department of Corrections.

                “Ladies and gentlemen, as a courtesy, we have allowed you to film the prisoner’s movement from this custody facility.  John Tolebridge is no longer Speaker of the House, nor is he deserving of the courtesy due such a man.  This prisoner is a traitor of the United States void of any nation’s citizenship.”  A silence fell upon the reporters as they watched the traitor shuffle step to the waiting vehicle.

The prisoner was placed in the backseat of the vehicle.  Though accustomed to being chaffered, inmate #30792482 was not accustomed to a security grill between the front and back seats or a door that could only be opened from the outside.  Nor was he accustomed to the feeling of shame as the cameras captured his departure from grace and power.

*     *     *     *     *

                “General Al-Karzah, I am honored you agreed to our request for an interview.  The world wants to know about the man behind the peace in the Middle East.  Those, whom I have interviewed, attribute much of the success to you, as the architect of the plan bringing peace to the region.”  Dakota Thompson of the National Weekly, had just finished a tour of the General’s compound along with her photographer, and was starting a tour of the inside of the residence.  “Sir, your home seems like a cross between an oasis and a military base.”

                “This is where I live.  I want life and beauty around me, but with my responsibilities there is always the possibility of an immediate response during an emergency and the necessity of communications.  I am honored to be viewed as the man bringing peace to the land, but that true honor goes to the people.  Unfortunately, we are still a long ways from peace.  Even today, acts of violence echo from our neighbors in Iraq.  Why is your magazine interested in a humble man such as myself and the events in the region?

                “Many in America, and around the world, believe that the West doesn’t always act in the best interest of others.  The fact that people, who many have viewed as savage, can join together for the purpose of peace, has stunned many and they are reconsidering their view of you.  And it isn’t just a quiet, but an actual peace in countries that were on the verge of bloodshed.  They are seeing here what they wish for in their own countries.”

                “Miss Thompson, such peace is not ever so far away.  It is just a matter of finding the grounds for brotherhood.”

                “But such grounds aren’t always so easy to find or maintain.  General, do you believe that peace could reign here.  There are so many folks who see the Middle East as a land of hostility, and believe this peace cannot be sustained.”

                “It is such a land because we choose to focus upon the desire to conquer and rebel.  Even Islam is divided over who leads.  Yet if we set that one issue aside, all Islam is in agreement with the desires of Allah and the teachings of the Prophet.  If the people of the land, regardless of their sect, were to set everything else aside to simply follow Allah and the teachings of his Prophet, there would be nothing to stand in our way.”

                “So you believe the Middle East can turn to peace by focusing on a common religion?”

                “That is the true place to start.”

                “With such peace throughout the region, would there even be a necessity for boundaries between nations?”

                “No there wouldn’t, for there would be no fear of one another.  Lives built upon common beliefs, there would be no room for hostilities.”

                “There are those who do not wish to adhere to those beliefs; families who have gained power through wealth.  They would be unwilling to turn such power over for a belief.”

                “Then they are not true followers of Islam and need to be reminded of their responsibilities before Allah.”

                “And who would be capable of convincing such men?”

                “It would take a great leader.  One who is strong in his faith, willing to lead the people from a position of submission to Allah, and most importantly, one who is patient.”

                “So to persuade such men, it would take a peer to example such true behavior.  General, is it possible to find such a man?  And would the people follow such a leader?  Such a person would be viewed as a weakling incapable of military or political decision.  Wouldn’t the people want a strong, decisive leader?”

                “As long as the will of Allah and the teachings of the Prophet are his foundation, everything else would take its proper place.  Most great men understand that such true wealth and power can only come from submission to Allah.  They simply need to be reminded.”

                “Who do you see being the leader of such a land of peace?  Would any of the current regional leaders qualify?”

                “Several have the strength, but none have the focus and vision to lead according to the Koran.  Strength is not enough; they must be loyal to Allah and be patient to see the land in unity.  Until the land unites, peace cannot have a chance.”

                “General, you have the vision, are you willing to lead”

                “If it is Allah’s will.”

*     *     *     *     *

Outside the clerk’s office at the federal courthouse, the clerks are on break on the patio discussing the activity in the building.

                “Lindsey, that’s ridiculous.  There is no way that Hedgecock will let that case proceed.”

                “Sure he will.”

                “Lindsey, he can’t because of 204.”

                “Kelley, what’s going on in 204?”

                “The Attorney General is in 204, Issha.  It’s the assassination.”

                “Oh, I didn’t realize that it was before the Grand Jury already.  How far has it gotten?

                “I don’t know, talk is that there is a lot of evidence and testimony.”

                “I can only imagine.  Well, I need to get back to my desk.”

                “Issha, you are such a workaholic.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Your honor, proceedings have moved a bit faster than I anticipated these past few days.  I request a recess until tomorrow.  At that time I will produce a witness for testimony.”

                “Alright, Mr. Agnew.  Court is adjourned until 9 a.m. tomorrow.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Sir, they are meeting before the grand jury.”

                “Are you sure?”

                “Yes, I checked the docket.  Room 204, Attorney General, the People of the United States v.”

                “Verses who?”

                “It doesn’t say.  All the rest have a name or title, but this one is incomplete."

                “Thank you, Issha”

*     *     *     *     *

In the White House, the Congressional advisement was continuing.

                “Mr. Schroeder, we have covered quite a bit today.  I hope you are not planning to give us more handouts.  These binders will burst.”

                “I do have more handouts, Mr. President, but they will go into fresh binders tomorrow.”

                “Mr. Schroeder, how much of the material have we covered?”

                “We are half way through, Mr. Speaker.”

                “Mr. Lincoln, you have been very quiet today, what are your thoughts.”

                “Mr. President, playing the devil’s advocate stinks.  I have reviewed all this material already.  It is tight and clean.  Agnew did his job well.  Everything that has been presented has corroboration from other sources.  There is nothing to protest except some punctuation in some spots.”

                “Unless there are further questions, we will recess until tomorrow morning, same time.  Please remember to leave everything here.”

Everyone stood and stretched.  Hands shook as Congressmen walked about regaining feeling in their legs.  A number of people talked to Pete Schroeder.  An equal number were talking to Lincoln about the Tolebridge case.  And in one corner stood the leadership of the United States; Joshua Mitchell, Whitney Marshall, Jackson Pickerill, and Stacey Perkins.

                “Joshua, I understand the tough spot you are in.  The American public will expect you to act on this matter; most wanting blood.  You had to sit through all that today and endure the pain of the event repeated in fine detail.  How can you do it?”

                “Stacey, it isn’t easy.  Looking at the blowups of the photos was like having a knife pierce my heart repeatedly.  But, I must go through this if I am expected to be the President and to act on behalf of the United States.”

                “If it ever gets out that you held court on this, there will be hell to pay, Josh.”

                “Jackson, it doesn’t matter if it is called court, advisement, or hearing; it is my duty to advise Congress of the progress of the investigation.  That is all that has occurred.  And in the end I will have to act upon the evidence presented.  At that time I am seeking the advisement of Congress in regards to the actions available to this office.  If the evidence of this investigation overwhelmingly points to the guilt of these men, I will act accordingly after advising the Leadership of my decision.  Court, Presidential commission, it’s all a matter of perspective.”

*     *     *     *     *

Thursday began just the way it did the previous day at the White House.  The President took his seat at the center of the table with the Vice President beside him, the House and Senate wrapping around their respective sides.  Fresh, empty binders sat on the table with the previous day’s binder.  Schroeder carried a file box to the table and he and Lincoln proceeded to distribute the handouts.

As the two worked their way around the table, Mitchell wondered to himself how this bipartisan group of egos was getting along.  This is, after all, something major for the nation.  Perhaps it is the fact that there are no cameras, and no press conferences.  Nothing at this point can be said to anyone, so why waste the effort?  Or perhaps these men and women realize the importance of what is being set before them and have decided to act like the leaders they really are.

*     *     *     *     *

Prior to his departure from Ben Gurion, Huntington had initiated tracking and intel gathering on the members of the Al-Karzah family.  Preston had also arranged some ‘political advisors’ to unofficially assist members of Parliament who might have trouble being confirmed.

Now back at Langley, Huntington and his Deputy Director of Operations, Samuel Forney, carefully examined aerial maps of the area of the elder Al-Karzah’s residence and Thompson’s notes and the recent photos taken by the National Weekly.  The compound was located just outside Tehran to the north.  Initially, the compound looked like an oasis in the middle of the desert.  But closer examination showed several helipads, a tower for communications and enough security to rival the force at Langley.

                “Sam, how would you abduct someone from this place?”

                “Director, are you serious?  If it were me, I would tunnel under the perimeter, and take out the security there.  Then I would continue to tunnel to the house and take out the security there.  And then I would tunnel under the house and move the entire house out.”

The Director just stared at Forney.

                “Preston, it would be easier to get someone out of here.  This house has a 360 degree view.  They would see us coming several miles away; ground or air.  And if we were able to sneak up on them, we would still have to enter the compound, overtake the security quietly so the subjects can’t hide in some possible tunnel, and then get inside.”

                “So there is no way to abduct from the house.”

                “If this was a television show that had everything scripted out … hijack IDF helicopters, and fly in wearing their uniforms.  Create some pretext for them to leave via helicopter.  Once in the air, knock them out and eliminate the IDF traveling with them.  Then aim for the nearest border " the Caspian Sea 70 miles away, or realistically Baghdad 700 miles away, and hope no one figures out what’s going on.  Preston, if we want to grab them it will have to be somewhere away from there and it will involve multiple abductions.”

                “So the house is completely out?”

                “Yeah, except for a kill shot.  It will be extremely difficult to get men into position to laser paint the house.  If we could get people in, I see four or five spots that might work to scope from.  I imagine we would want to take out the entire operation, not just the human targets.  We are targeting in Iran, so I would use multiple cruise missiles to insure we get a hit.  Different launch locations, different directions, different angles.”

                “Isn’t multiple cruise missiles overkill, not to mention very expensive?  Why not use a drone?”

                “You forgot that Iran was able to hijack one of our drones.  We want the attack as stealth as possible, so missiles are the way to go.  Iran has the ability to knock one of our missiles down and we want to insure that at least one missile gets through so we launch from multiple sights.” 

                “Okay, write up the kill shot and give me abduction options for the President.”

*     *     *     *     *

While Pete Schroeder was beginning his second day of evidence presentation, Ron Agnew was walking Jeff Thoms into the courtroom to address the grand jury.  In return for his cooperation, Thoms was allowed to dress in one of his suits and move without cuffs.

                "State your name for the record."

                "Jeffery Thoms."

                "What is your occupation?"

                "I am employed by the United States Secret Service.  I was assigned to the Presidential Protection Detail."

                "On the day of the assassination, what was your responsibility?"

                "I was to protect the Presidential party during a photo shoot on the steps of the Capitol building."

                "Was there any other reason you were there that day?"

                'Yes, I was employed to assassinate the Vice President of the United States."

The bombshell hit the grand jury and they were thoroughly ambushed.  The judge called an immediate recess to allow the jurors a chance to recover from the shock of the statement.  After 15 minutes the court was called back to order.

                "Mr. Thoms, will you repeat your last statement?"

                "I was employed to assassinate the Vice President of the United States."

                "Who employed you?"

                "I'm not sure."

                "How were you employed?  How were you recruited?"

                "Another agent ...."

*     *     *     *     *

A town car pulled up in front of the United States Federal Court.  The vehicle had Syrian diplomatic plates and flags on the front fenders.  A male, dressed in a dark suit, stepped out of the backseat and walked up the court steps.  When he reached the weapons screening, he displayed his diplomatic credentials and stated that the pouch with him could not be inspected due to the sensitive nature of the documents inside.  After a short delay, a security escort guided him around the screening checkpoint.

Once inside, the diplomat presented a federal subpoena.  He was to report to room 204, and wait for the United States Attorney.  After being directed to the courtroom, the gentleman took a seat on the bench across from the room.

*     *     *     *     *

                "Mr. President, objection; just because Cassis worked for and with the Sheikh, it doesn't mean the Sheikh had knowledge of or participated in the assassination."  John Lincoln finally found a point to thunder.

                "Pete, what implicates the Sheikh, other than his association with Cassis."

                "Mr. President, first, we have emails between the Sheikh and Cassis.  In these communications, the Sheikh states his hatred for the United States and her western allies.  He states his need to prevent President Hart or his replacement from involving the United States diplomatically or militarily, and thus preventing them from interfering in his plans.  And we have progress reports from Cassis to the Sheikh.  Second, we have Cassis' direct knowledge of the Sheikhs identity and participation.  This is not guilt by association, but direct oversight."

Lincoln's protest, spurred a number of questions from the Congressmen and women. 

                "Ladies and gentlemen, in addition to these two points, there is a third: the Sheikhs actions independent of the assassination.  He has stated that the assassination was to prevent the United States' involvement with his plans in the Middle East.  Then the plans themselves condemn the Sheikh of his role in the assassination, because he placed the plan into action."

Schroeder walked to the final file box, and returned to the table.

                "If my worthy opponent will continue to help me, I believe we can wrap this up."

                "With pleasure.  That was my only shot, and you spoiled it."

*     *     *     *     *

Agnew concluded his questioning of Thoms.  After the initial shock, the jurors recovered quite well and were asking excellent questions.  By the time they finished with the questions, they felt as much pity for him as they felt indignation with him.  Thoms’ testimony served its purpose.  He established Cassis’ link to the assassination and through Cassis, the extended arm of the mastermind.  Taking the next step of linking Cassis to Al-Karzah will be easy.  Thoms and Agnew stepped out of the courtroom into the hall way.  The two of them stood there waiting for Thom's escort from the Justice Department.

The Syrian diplomat set down his book and stood from where he was seated, opposite the courtroom.  His diplomatic pouch sat open on the bench; he reached inside.  His movements caught the attention of Thoms.    The Middle Eastern man pulled his hand out of the case, in it a dark, round ball with a ring attached to it.  The man pulled the pin, paused a moment, and then lobbed the grenade at Agnew.

                "GRENADE."

Everyone scattered away as two men ran towards the danger.  Thoms shoved Agnew hard into the courtroom entry and then threw his body at the grenade.  The grenade hit Thoms in the chest, and Thoms grabbed the grenade and held it against his chest as he fell to the floor.  As Thoms hit the floor, the grenade exploded.

                "GRAB HIM, SOMEONE GRAB HIM."

Agnew pointed at the Syrian opposite him.  Seeing that the grenade was neutralized, the Syrian reached into the case and withdrew a hand gun.  As he spun to shoot Agnew, two federal agents opened fire as they were running down the hallway towards the courtroom.  Their shots were on the mark, killing him before he could fire.

*     *     *     *     *

In the cabinet room, Stetsons phone rang.  No sooner had he answered his cell, the phones of Pickerill and Perkins rang.  Now everyone’s attention was drawn to the center of the table.

                "Ron, are you okay?"

                "I'm fine, but Thoms is dead.  He dove on a grenade and saved my life."

                "What about the hit man?"

                "He’s dead.  Agents shot him as he turned to shoot me."

Mitchells hand slammed down on the table and nearly everyone’s eyes went wide.

                "Ron, you’re not hurt in any way?”

                “My back aches from being shoved into the door and my hearing is a little muffled but I’m okay.

                “Get yourself checked out and then go home and rest."

Mitchell hung up, and sat there as the others finished their calls.

                "Ladies and gentlemen, you have heard the evidence against Al-Karzah.  Is there anyone here who does not believe he ordered the assassination?"

Mitchell slowly looked at each person as they shook their head.

                "Someone just tried to kill Ron Agnew outside the courtroom inside the courthouse.  Enough is enough."

The President stood.

                "As President of the United States, I have fulfilled my duty of advisement.  Thank you for being here.  The investigation will not be published until the trials are completed.  You may take the binders, but they are not open to viewing by any, other than you directly.  If there is a leak I will point to you first."

Everyone stood and slowly made their way out shaking hands with the President as they passed.  The last to leave were Lincoln and Schroeder.

                "Ron is okay.  He is just shaken up a bit.  Thoms is dead, he took a grenade for Ron."

                "A grenade?"  Lincoln's face went white.  "Thoms is dead?"

                "Yes.  And Ron is fine.  Both of you go home.  You did a good job here."

The two United States Attorneys shook the Presidents hand and Mitchell turned and headed to the Oval Office, leaving the attorneys to pack their things and clean up.  Perkins and Pickerill were waiting in the hallway.

                “Joshua, have you made up your mind yet as to what you are going to do?”

                “Stacey, let’s just say the options have been narrowed down quite a bit.  You will have my decision soon.”

As Mitchell walked to the Oval Office, Perkins and Pickerill looked at each other.  “Stacey, we can expect another 93-148 letter of advisement.”

                “I wonder if one has ever included a death warrant before.”

 

 

XXXI

 

Midnight in Iraq, all was quiet.  And yet the quiet was disturbingly loud after a day of protests and rioting.  Numerous Iraqis participated in the protests in front of the most staunched supporters of the Iraqi government " the Americans, the Brits, and the Russians.  The throng of people that stood at the gate throughout the day, yelling with banners and posters waving, dispersed at sundown just as they did over the past several days.  Tonight, though, several large groups quietly approached the US Embassy.  Several miles away another large group began to surround the Russian Embassy.  And across from the Al Rasheed Hotel, another group was positioning itself next to the United Kingdom’s Embassy.

The age of cellular communications has revolutionized the world, allowing for banking to occur from overseas while traveling in a taxi, or wishing your child good night while in between meetings thousands of miles from home, or in this case orchestrating simultaneous assaults on other nations.  From a command center, the groups were directed to their positions.  Upon command, all three embassies were charged upon.

At the United States Embassy, Marines on security patrol formed a barrier in front of the swelling ranks of protesters.  The protesters pushed their way through the security only to race into a larger force of Marines rushing from various buildings on the complex.  The protesters were taken completely by surprise.  The mob that had planned to overwhelm the security force was quickly overwhelmed themselves.  In an attempt to escape, the mob tried to leave the way they came in, but found the exit sealed and themselves trapped.  Several armed protesters attempted to fire upon the Marines but couldn’t because of the tight quarters.  With the bright lighting that was utilized, those armed were quickly identified, disarmed, and taken into custody.

The Russian Embassy saw a similar attack quickly thwarted as an increased security presence overtook the surprised mob.  Unfortunately, things did not go as well for the British.  Though the protesters did not succeed in breaching the Embassy itself, they did manage to set numerous items ablaze before retreating to the street and dispersing victoriously.  The last of the group to run away included several gunmen who had fared well against the armed British security force.

Back at the American Embassy, protesters were cuffed and seated against the wall.  The Marines dealt first with the armed invaders, checking ID’s and processing them as possible terrorists.  Of the 12 gunmen, nine had IDF identifications on their persons.  After further securing the 12 gunmen, the Marines began the tedious task of processing the mobsters; each being formally advised that they had committed a grievous act of war against the United States, that their nation opposed their actions, and that no aid would be coming from their government.

*     *     *     *     *

The corridor in the courthouse was closed off while federal agents processed the crime scene.  The agents were going through the diplomatic pouch and personal belongings of the hit man.

                "You can't do that, he has diplomatic immunity."

                "Who are you?"

                "I'm the security supervisor.  He had all his papers in order.  I made sure of it before escorting him."

                "Did you search him?"

                "You can't search a diplomat."

                "Jack, take Mr. Security Supervisor, and interview him.  I want to talk to his supervisor before I leave."

                "Mike, can we touch this stuff?"

                "Steve, this dead man tried to kill my friend.  His actions were against the United States.  We have no evidence that he was a diplomat and that these papers are legit.  Diplomat or not, we handle this as we normally would."

Perkins picked up the dead man’s cell phone and started going through the call history.  One call received yesterday.  Perkins pulled his own phone out and dialed the number.  As he stood in the hallway near the crime tape, he listened as the call rang.  He also heard a cell phone nearby ring. 

                “Hello?”

Perkins heard a women’s voice in stereo; he heard her voice over the cell in one ear, the other hearing the same women 10 feet away.  Perkins hung up, waited a moment and then pressed redial.  He then stepped under the tape and walked towards the sound of the ringing cell phone.  Within seconds, he was standing in front of a woman of Middle Eastern descent in her late 20’s.

                “Aren’t you going to answer your phone, ma’am?”

The call went to voicemail.  The woman had a slight panicked look on her face.

                “If it’s important, they will call back.”

Perkins pressed redial again on his cell; her cell phone rang immediately.

                “It must be important, ma’am.”

*     *     *     *     *

Stetson was sitting in his office.  The mp3 was playing Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass.  Normally the music helped to keep the boss tame, but this afternoon Mary kept hearing a fist pound on the desk.  As usual, the Office door was open while the President was in and no business was being conducted.

                “Interesting music; is it the original artist?”

Élan Suzuki was standing in the Office doorway.

                “Yes, most of their music is instrumental.  How can I help you?”

                “I’m just checking on you, I haven’t seen you for several days for our dancing.  Mary said you have been extremely busy.  I just wanted to make sure everything is okay.”

                “Thank you.  Things have been quite hectic.  I have missed being at dance class.”  Stetson stood by the desk looking a bit bashful.

                “Sir, the music is playing and it appears your office does have a little room to move around.”

Joshua stepped to the middle of the room and stood in the center of the Presidential Seal.

                “Miss Suzuki, may I have this dance?”

Suzuki walked to the President and curtseyed.  As the President took Suzuki’s hand, the music stopped. 

                “Music is essential to dancing, Sir.”

                “Yes, it would be helpful if it were playing.”

Stetson walked to the table behind his desk and selected a play list on his mp3.  Then he returned to the center of the room as the music began playing once more.  Élan noticed that the President wasn’t as tense as he had been for their previous dances.  The music continued as the two continued a second dance. 

Mary could see them moving in the Office and walked to the doorway to get a better look.  The angry man, who was pounding the desk earlier, was now dancing with a much calmer expression.  The music stopped and Mitchell saw his secretary standing in the doorway.  Not knowing what to do, Mary simply clapped her hands.  In response the President bowed, and Élan Suzuki giggled.  The playlist continued as the couple moved to the doorway and the three talked.

As the music played in the Presidential office, Preston Huntington walked into the outer office. 

                “Preston, come in to the Office.  Miss Suzuki, thank you for the interlude and your concern.  Mrs. Johnson, time for you to wrap it up and head home.  I don’t want Frank thinking I’m stealing his girl.”

The President stepped back into the Oval Office and shut the door.

                “The Boss seemed to be enjoying himself.”

                “He’s a good dancer, he just needs to get used to not dancing with his wife.  He still feels awkward dancing with me and I’m concerned he might freeze up with the Princess or the Prime Minister’s wife.”

                “Well, you were a lifesaver today.  Something is bothering him more than usual.  You seemed to lift his mood.  And save an antique desk.”

                “I’ve learned the value of distraction.  When we danced for the fourth or fifth time, I was wearing a strapless top and he was so nervous to touch my back.  I struck up a conversation with him which made him focus on talking and dancing.  Soon he forgot that his hand was on my bare shoulder.  I just wonder what we distracted him from today.”

*     *     *     *     *

On the other side of the door, the music was off and Mitchell and Huntington were talking. 

                “Preston, Thoms is dead and Agnew is shaken.  They are still coming after us.  I’ve had enough.”

                “So we aren’t going for the abduction?”

                “I’m not bringing them here to be tried; maybe before, but not now.  He would love that.  I’m not going to make him a global celebrity or, when he receives the death penalty, a martyr.  And right now he thinks he can act with impunity.  His arrogance has sealed his fate.  What do you have?”

                “Sir, first I have this from Ambassador Riley.  The embassy in Iraq was attacked tonight, just after midnight local time.  No casualties sustained, but a rather large number of protesters were taken into custody.  We also have preliminary reports that the Russian and British were attacked.”

                “I’m glad no one was hurt.  I’ll have to give Todd a call later for an update.  What is the second bit you have for me?”

It is Abbud’s birthday next week.  It appears that his sons are planning a party.  All the sons should be there with their families.  The concern is the other guests.”

                “See if you can get a guest list.  What’s the operation name?”

                “Pinata.”

                “I hope we get the indictments before we act.  Give me the details on the operation.”

*     *     *     *     *

Mike Perkins was sitting in the Presiding Justices office.  A clerk had just taken a seat in the office along with her supervisor.

                “Why are we being kept here so late?”

                “Miss Edwards, someone died this afternoon because of a grenade.”

                “What does that have to do with me?”

                “The man who threw that grenade was a foreign hit man.  Someone told him that his target was in room 204.”

                “I didn’t tell him.”

                “Did you know what was happening in that courtroom?”

                “Of course I did.  It was general knowledge.”

                “Your Honor, aren’t grand jury proceedings confidential?

                “Yes they are.”

                “Miss Edwards, how did you know what was going on in that confidential courtroom?”

                “I have a friend upstairs that I go say hi to.  And I can’t help it if people discuss things while I’m there.”

                “During World War II, there were slogans people lived by, such as ‘Loose lips sink ships’, and ‘The enemy is everywhere’.  The wrong person was listening in when you were bragging about your knowledge and they told the hit man.  The bottom line is, you are responsible for the death of a Secret Service agent, the near assassination of a United States attorney, and the possible deaths of all those in the hallway. You are responsible.”

                “But, “

                “No buts.  You knew that what happens in those rooms is confidential, and you disregarded that importance.  If you hadn’t said anything to your friends, that agent would be alive.”

Kelley Edwards sat in the office and began to weep.

                “Your Honor, you may want to restrict certain offices from open access.  I’m not the Attorney General, but you may want to move the grand jury to another room that is more secure.  204 is compromised.”

                “Thank you for your suggestions, Agent Perkins.  That will be implemented.  What about the security of my courthouse.”

                “I will be dealing with a United States Marshal’s captain next.”

                “Let him know you are there on my authority.  That should pave the road for you.  Miss Edwards, we need to discuss your employment options.”

*     *     *     *     *

Ron Agnew was at his home in Alexandria, shooting baskets in the driveway.  A Lincoln MK-S pulled up in front and the Attorney General stepped out from behind the steering wheel.

                “Ron, you’re pounding the boards pretty hard.”

                “It’s not every day someone dives on a grenade to protect me, Boss.”

Thinbold held his hands out and Agnew tossed him the basketball.  Agnew eyed his boss as Thinbold took a shot from the sidewalk and nailed it.

                “Nice shot, Boss.”

                “I played some in college.  Nice to know I can still hit the long ones.”

                “Are you here to see if I’m okay or if I’m okay?”

                “Both.  You did a great job on the investigation.  The President couldn’t be happier.  Schroeder or Lincoln can step in and see the indictments through, if you need to walk away.  I’m more concerned about how you are; personally and emotionally.”

                “I have to admit, I’m shaken.  Boss, Thoms was guilty, but I think of stupidity more so than murder.  But, I’m not the President and it wasn’t my wife that was shot before my eyes.  Thoms got himself boxed in and didn’t think.  I guess not thinking is a good thing for someone who is supposed to take a bullet.  He pushed me away and dove on the grenade without hesitation.  It was his sacrifice that shook me up more than any physical pain I experienced.”

                “You’ll be okay, but are you okay right now?”

                “I just need to pound this out.”

                “How much time off do you need?”

                “Ask me after I get the indictments.  Al-Karzah and Company made this personal.  I will be in the courtroom tomorrow.  It’s my mission now.”

                “I’ve talked to the Presiding Justice.  They are moving the proceedings to another courtroom for security purposes.  Go to Hacker’s office in the morning and he will make sure you get to the right place.  And they found a leak at the court.  Perkins is plugging it personally.”

                “Plugging it with a cork or a bullet?  Knowing Mike, I would guess both”

                “He said for you to give him a call when you’ve relaxed.”

                “Thanks, Boss.”

Agnew threw the boss the basketball for one more shot.  This time it was a jumper from the manhole in the street.  It hit the lip of the rim, grazed the backboard and then went in.  Thinbold smiled and waved as he climbed into his car and drove away.

*     *     *     *     *

                “Hey Mike, the boss said to give you a call when I was relaxed.”

                “What did you do to unwind?”

                “Shot some hoops in the driveway.”

                “Anything left of the backboard or the garage door?”

                “The hinges from the garage door are still there.  What do you have for me?”

                “Military ID.  He was a Syrian Captain with the IDF.”

                “I figured the IDF part.  I hope the President has a good game plan for the indictments.”

                “If he doesn’t, he will.  Schroeder was there when he got the news this afternoon.  Those huge oak conference tables aren’t supposed to shudder when a hand slams down on them.”

                “You mean the one in the Cabinet Room?”

                “That’s the one.”

                “Wow!  Did Schroeder get his job finished?”

                “He said he did, though he didn’t say what it was.  Do you want some company?  I can pick up a pizza or some Chinese food.”

                “I need to get some rest; I want to see if I can wrap it up tomorrow.  Perhaps we can get together for lunch tomorrow.  And thanks for the update.”

                “You are going back tomorrow?”

                “They can’t keep me away, now.” 

 

 

XXXII

 

Reverend Jacob Snow had returned for another appointment with the President.

                “Josh, how have you been sleeping?”

                “I’ve been sleeping better, but I need to be wiped out before I lay down.  Normally I take in an old movie that can take my mind off things for a moment.”

                “Hold your hands out in front of you.”  Snow studied them as Mitchell held them out.  “You have a slight tremor in the right hand.”

                “That’s the one I slammed down on a conference table.”

                “Before or after you were told of the agent dying from the grenade?”  Mitchell had a questioning look on his face.  “It’s all over the news.”

                “After.  Jake, they are still coming after us.  We know who they are now, but we are in a holding pattern.  Until I get the legal go ahead, we’re sitting with targets painted on us.”

                “And when you get the go ahead, will it be an eye for an eye?”

                “Are you asking if there is a death warrant on my desk with their names?  Yes, but not out of vengeance: this is out of justice.  This is the only way we can bring this to an end; this goes beyond the assassination.  They are the forces behind the Middle East unrest.  They gambled big and are about to lose.”

                “Joshua, I know you.  I’ve seen you in action.  You are a noble warrior.  Are you going to have problems seeing this through?”

                “No.  This won’t be like the last mission.”

                “Okay, Josh.  Give me your insights on the passage I gave you to meditate on.”

*     *     *     *     *

Friday morning, Agnew was in front of the grand jury in an unlisted courtroom.  The courtroom was an older one in the basement that once had been used for arraignments.  It now sits unused, the mustiness and flickering florescent lights reflecting its discarded condition.  Even the access to the room was restricted, first through a long abandoned stairway adjacent to the former holding cells and then past several security checkpoints manned by the F.B.I.

Agnew began with earnest.  The jurors heard a reading of the deposition of Gomez and accepted the video testimony presented.  By lunch, the jurors were certain of Cassis’ involvement.  Ronald marveled at how quickly the proceedings were moving considering the volume of material he was presenting. 

*     *     *     *     *

Steven Johns, Secretary of the Treasury, was enjoying a cup of coffee in the Oval Office.  Johns, formerly the State Treasurer of California and CFO of Cascade Gas and Electric, and Auditor and Comptroller of the County of Columbia, was Hart’s first choice for the job.  Sharp in finding solutions, Hart had pinned his hopes of tax reform on him.

                “Steve, what is the status of the tax bill?”

                “Joshua, I put it on hold until I heard further from you.  I gave you the bill I worked up with Hart and a second option which is a bit more creative.”

                “I liked the 2nd version.  It is not only creative, but fair.  The scaling back of the deductions as income climbs is right.  How far does this strip the tax code related to personal income and what does it do for revenue?”

                “We are totally rewriting the personal income portion.  Most of the loopholes are gone.  With the addition of a high end tax bracket of income over 10 million and the deduction levels, we can anticipate an increase of 40 percent.  Combine that increase with the government restructuring and the deleting of aged programs, we should be able to not only have a balanced budget, but also take healthy bites out of the deficit.”

                “What will this do to the economy?”

                “It will definitely impact the luxuries industries.  People will have to live a bit more frugally.  But if this reform is linked to government reform and we can bring businesses back, the impact should be minimal, especially with jobs formation in the domestic energy field and several of the other programs I’ve been informed of.  Like an intricate tapestry, you can’t pull one thread without affecting the picture.”

                “And the million dollar question; can we get the votes?”

                “You are going to have to sell it.  As long as you assure the public that this does not interfere with Social Security and Medicare, it levels the tax field amongst classes, and that the services you are cutting are either outdated or the responsibility of the individual states, you should be good.”

                “In other words, tell them what I told you.”

                “Exactly.  Everyone complains about people not paying their fair share.  The majority of Americans complain about government being too big.  Most people know something must be done about Social Security, but are afraid of losing out on the benefit.  The change in the eligibility age to 70 and elimination of the early eligibility with reduced payments is a step in the right direction.  People are going to be unhappy about working five additional years, but it’s either pump early and go dry quickly or wait and have funds available.  It was wrong of previous Congresses and Administrations to have saddled you with such cuts when they could have acted in a gentler fashion.”

                “We have a good plan here.  My work is cut out for me, but it can be sold.  The problem will be getting Congress behind it.  I will have to pull a Reagan: go to the public first and sell it to them, then take it to Congress.  Steve, I want you to work on a corporate tax reform that cleans up the code, is fair and compassionate to small businesses, and proper for big business.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Excuse me.  Dr. Snow?”

                “Yes, how can I help you?”

                “May I speak with you?”

                “Certainly.”  Élan Suzuki led Jacob Snow out to the Kennedy Garden.

                “Dr. Snow, I’m concerned about the President.  My responsibility is to oversee the social events for the President, personal and political.”

                “What concerns do you have?”

                “I know the President is a very strong man.  But I also know that he is emotionally crushed.  I’ve been dancing with him just about every afternoon to help him become accustomed to dancing with someone other than his wife.  I’m concerned he may freeze up at the State Dinner.”

                “You need to challenge him.  Let me explain Joshua Mitchell.  Hold your hand up.”  Suzuki held up her hand.  “That’s Joshua Mitchell; that’s how he sees himself and represents himself to the public.  He views himself as a common man; common intelligence, average leadership ability.  He thinks he’s dancing well because he doesn’t trip over his own feet.”  Snow held up his hand against Suzuki’s, dwarfing it.  “This is the real Mitchell.  IQ of 151, proven leadership ability on multiple occasions.  And he’s Fred Astaire.  He plays himself down because he is humble, but in truth he is larger than he knows.  He just needs to be challenged.”

                “Who am I to challenge the President to step up?”

                “When he was Vice President, Josh told me about how President Hart would throw out issues for his staff to debate for him.  He loved to debate anything President Hart would give him, but he mentioned that there was one person who had the ability to infuriate him, something only a couple people were capable of.  That person was Élan Suzuki.  I’m sorry, what’s your name again?”  Suzuki lowered her head and blushed.  “Can I ask a personal question?”

                “Certainly.”

                “Why did you accept the additional duties of hostess and as his date?”

                “Out of respect.  Most people don’t know, but I was the one who put the bug in Jack Diggs ear to suggest Joshua Mitchell for Vice President.  He earned my respect as a Congressman when he stood in the Speakers Well much like Nemesis, the Greek goddess of retribution who rode in a chariot drawn by griffins and held a measuring stick and scourge, and called not only on his peers, but the leadership as well, to act with integrity.  I thought such a man would be a worthy replacement for Martin Paris.

                As Vice President, people around here were in awe of his negotiation ability.  I knew he was smart from our debates; I didn’t know he was 151 smart.  And then to see a man whom I respected, suffer the heartache he did and still stand up with integrity and lead the nation, how could I say no?  If it’s too much, I’ll step down, but I couldn’t just say no.  I still recall our meeting in my office, when he asked me to be his date and the White House Hostess.  I can’t forget that dance, and his understanding of gentleness and compassion, and that he say those qualities in me.”

Snow smiled.  “He is an enigma.  He believes himself to be less than he is and holds back showing the nation who he really is.  But when he drops his guard, he’ll amaze you every time.”

*     *     *     *     *

After lunch, Agnew started focusing on the evidence linking Cassis to Al-Karzah and linking Al-Karzah to the assassination.  The jury stayed late to finish the presentation of the evidence, and at six in the evening, the case was concluded.  

After a brief discussion amongst themselves, the Foreman of the jury asked the judge if they could meet on Saturday to begin deliberations. 

                “Your Honor, normally all of us would want to be away from here to be with our families for the weekend.  But this case is of the highest importance to our nation.  We all agree that it would be best to deliberate while the facts are fresh.”

The judge granted the request.

*     *     *     *     *

Élan Suzuki, appeared outside the Office.  Normally the President meets her in the State Dining Room, but today she came to him.

                “Élan, is everything alright?  I was just on my way to the dining room.”

                “Everything is fine, sir.  Today, you need to put your tux on before we dance.”

                “Excuse me?”

                “Sir, you are the President of the United States.  You are the standard all others strive to reach.  We need to make sure you look your best and that means you putting on your tux.  Then I can see how it fits you, whether it needs tailoring, cleaning, or simply burning.” 

                “Now you are taking pleasure in my pain.  Alright, do I report back here, the dining room, or your office?”

                “The dining room.”

                “Alright.”  Stetson moped as he walked away, and could hear a giggle behind him.

                “Mary, I’m going to need some help, are you game?

                “Sure.”

Twenty-five minutes later, the President, in full tux with his tie draped around his neck, entered the State Dining Room.  Élan stood waiting in the middle of the room.  Élan Suzuki, the great granddaughter of Eurasian immigrants from Japan who arrived in the years prior to World War II, stood five foot six in her stocking feet.  And though short in stature, Mitchell knew she was tall in wit.  As Vice President, Joshua had opportunities to face her in battles of wit, to the amusement of Jim Hart.  On one occasion, blood was drawn by both sides resulting in a mutual respect and a gentler approach to their sparring.  It had been some time since Mitchell had seen that spunk.

Today, the President found her waiting for him in a white evening gown.  Stetson’s eyes went wide.  He made his way into the center of the room, totally distracted, bumping into a table and several chairs on his way.

                “You, look, um, beautiful.  Is this what you will be wearing at the dinner?”  Stetson found himself looking down bashfully at the carpet, kicking imaginary rocks.

                “Yes, but I will be wearing my hair up.  And my makeup will be much better.

                “Well, you look beautiful.  I’ll be lucky to get a dance with you.”

Suzuki looked the President over.

                “Problem #1: that is not how the tie is to be worn.”  Suzuki stepped up to him and began to tie the bow tie.  She could feel him tremble and sensed his uneasiness as she completed the bow and straightened it.  “That’s much better.”

                “Are you wearing heels?”  Stetson returned to the bashful, boyish behavior.

                “These put me at your height.  Do you object?”

                “Not at all: I was just trying to figure out the height thing.”

                “Stand up tall.  You are the President, not the entertainment.”

                “Careful, young lady.”  Mitchell rose to his full height, a stern look on his face. 

                “Much better, sir, but try to smile.  Mary, what do you think?  The tux looks a little baggy.”

                “He hasn’t been eating right.  The tux needs to be taken in a little.”

Mitchell hadn’t even noticed Mary in the room until this moment and he felt bad that he hadn’t.  He slumped a little until he heard Élan clear her throat, and then stood tall once more.  He glanced around the room to see if he was on display for anyone else.  A man was standing near Mary and started walking back and forth.

                “Tony, what do you think?”

                “Miss Suzuki, it will need to be taken in some but I can’t really make a judgment call until I see him move in it.”

                “That’s fair enough.”  Élan motioned to Mary.  President Mitchell, may I introduce Mrs. Mary Johnson; Mrs. Johnson, the President of the United States.

                “Mr. President, I am honored to meet you.”

Stetson decided to play along.

                “Mrs. Johnson, the honor is mine.  May I call you Mary?”  The President took her hand gently and held it for a moment.  Then music began to play.  “What?”

                “Mr. President, you are not going to deny your guest a dance, are you?  Tony needs to see you move in the tux and I need to evaluate your appearance as well.”

Mitchell took his frame with her and began to dance.  Stumbling with his first step and then proceeding stiffly.  Suzuki stopped the music, took Stetson by the hand and led him to one side of the room.

                “Mr. President, I know this is difficult for you.  You loved your wife very much.”  She paused for a moment then continued.  “I know you know how to dance, you amaze me every time you take me in your frame.  You will not appreciate me saying this, but I have to say it.  If you expect to lead this nation and the free world, you better lead when you dance, otherwise you might as well resign.  The world is watching you, and will judge your leadership ability based on what you do to this music.”

Stetson stood for a long moment, not knowing how to respond.  Finally, he walked back to the center of the room and closed his eyes for a moment.  Constance, my love, this is part of my job.  I love you.  He then took Mary’s hand.

                “Mrs. Johnson, Mary, please forgive the interruption.  May I have this dance?”

The music began, and Stetson took Mary in his frame.  He paused for a moment and then began to dance.  As they moved, he did his best to strike up a conversation with her.  His movement was not as relaxed as it should be, but it was decisive.  He kept his steps simple, yet moved about the room.  Mary noticed her boss close his eyes several times as if concentrating on the movements, but she could sense the hurt and discomfort he felt as well.

It was determined that Tony needed to study his movement a little longer before knowing how to tailor the tuxedo.  So Élan took Mary’s place as Stetson’s dance partner.  The music continued and the two began.

                “That was pretty blunt of you.  And brave.  Thank you.”

                “I don’t do blunt well sir, I hated saying what I said, but you needed to know.  I didn’t think anyone else would say anything, and you needed to hear it before the State Dinner.”

                “So, other than our sidebar, what is your evaluation of me?”

                “You have excellent manners.  Posture is good once you believe you are the President and not some stiff luck enough to be noticed.  And an excellent dancer when you decide to dance; the ladies will be sad if they don’t get a dance with you.”

                “I’m starting to feel like the cabana boy at a spa.”

                “You are the President of the United States.  It is my privilege to dance with you.  And it will be the same with any woman who dances with you, even if she is a Prime Minister, Princess, Ambassador, or their wife.  She may think differently, but the fact is you aren’t going to them for money, or military support, or humanitarian aid.  They are coming to you.  It’s not something to be arrogant about; it’s just a fact.  We may be Britain’s offspring, but they look to us to lead, regardless of what Wilson thinks.”

                “That was put so very diplomatically.  How long were you at the State Department before coming here?”

                “Ten years.  And before you ask, I have a Masters in International and Public Affairs from Columbia.”

                “And a Bachelors in prelaw from Oklahoma State, I’ve read your file.  Go Cornhuskers!”

                “Cowboys, Cornhuskers are Nebraska.”

                “I know.  I’ve been waiting for a chance to throw that one out there.”

                “We really need to work on that sense of humor.”

The music ended and Tony knew exactly what to do.

                “It won’t take much.  The alterations will be quite simple.  The main concern will be the jacket.  I can mark and pin the jacket here.  Where would you like to take care of the pants, sir?”

The President looked at the two ladies, then to Tony.

                “Definitely, not here.  I’ll come to you.”

*     *     *     *     *

Saturday morning, in the old arraignment court, the grand jury met together in the courtroom.  Agnew sat outside on the old, wooden bench drinking coffee and enjoying a croissant.  The court clerk stepped out of the court several times, calling Ron inside to answer questions, and then dismissing him.  At 2:38 p.m. Agnew was called into the court room.  Upon Agnew taking his seat, the Justice presiding over the hearing addressed the jury.

                “Mr. Foreman, what are the juror’s findings?”

                “Your Honor, the Grand Jury of and for the Federal Circuit hereby indicts Abbud bin Al-Karzah,  Mohammad bin Al-Karzah, and Ibraham Cassis, et al,  of the murders of James Hart, Carolyn Hart, and Constance Mitchell, and the attempted murder of Joshua Mitchell.  The Grand Jury further indicts Abbud bin Al-Karzah, Mohammad bin Al-Karzah, and Ibraham Cassis for the murders of Secret Service Agents Thomas ….”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Mr. President.”

                “Yes Ron, everything okay?”

                “Yes sir.  I am calling to advise you that the Grand Jury of and for the Federal Circuit has issued indictments for Abbud bin Al-Karzah, and Mohammad bin Al-Karzah.”

                “That went fast, Ron.  Good job.”

                “It was a slam dunk, sir.  There was only one witness to present.  The rest of the evidence was videotaped dispositions.  That made it easy.”

                “How are you holding up after Thursday?”

                “I’m still shaky about it.  How Thoms automatically covered the grenade is something that I will never forget.  Sir, I” Agnew stopped.

                “Ron, what is it?”

                “Sir, I know he did wrong, but he saved my life.  His family was being used as leverage against him.  I’m simply conflicted over him.”

                “I understand, Ron.  The past two days, I have dealt with anger and pity.  He failed to protect, then he gave his life protecting. “

                “Sir, when do you want the indictments opened?”

                “I’ll let you know.  Thanks for the call, Ron.”

Mitchell hung up and then placed a call.

                “Preston, this is Mitchell.  When is the party?” 

 

XXXIII

 

Tuesday morning, the Situation Room was busy.  Mitchell and Vice President Marshall, along with Secretary of State Todd Williams and Secretary of Defense Frank Anderson were seated at the table.  Preston Huntington was on his phone coordinating information with Langley.  Speaker Pickerill and President Pro Tem Perkins sat as honored guests.

Four of the room’s monitors were active; screen one was live with the fire control on board the USS Cowpens (CG-63) with the Bush battle group in the Mediterranean, screen two was live with the fire control on board the USS Mississippi (SSN-782) in the Arabian Sea, screen three was the command center at Al-Udeid Air Base in Qatar.  The fourth screen was the big screen with live satellite feed over Iran, just north of Tehran.

At 7 a.m., a US Naval Captain sat down at a smaller table before the monitors.

                “All commands open your orders now.”  Each command opened orders which were received an hour earlier.  The cover page read, ‘Avenging Angel’.  The commanders of the Cowpens and Mississippi were seated at the fire control along with the operations officer.  At Al-Udeid, the base commander was seated at the command center.  The Captain opened his binder and waited for the others to open theirs.  “All commands stand by for identification, cadence, and operational perimeters.”

The President stood and walked forward until he was beside the Captain.

                “Gentlemen, we are about to avenge the murder of President James Hart.  Is there anyone present who cannot follow the orders about to be given?”

Every command answered “NO”.

                “Then gentlemen, good luck and happy hunting.”

Mitchell returned to his seat.  The Captain continued with the operation briefing.

                “Cowpens, your call sign is Shotgun, your arrow is Cavalier, and your song is Alpha.  Do you copy?”

                “Shotgun copies, arrow is Cavalier, song is Alpha.”

                “Mississippi, your call sign is Longbow, your arrow is Honesty, and your song is Bravo. Do you copy?”

                “Longbow copies, arrow is Honesty, song is Bravo.”

                “Al-Udeid, your call sign is Slingshot, your delivery is Crossbow, your arrow is Whisper, and your song is Delta.  Do you copy?”

                “Slingshot copies, delivery is Crossbow, arrow is Whisper, song is Delta.”

                “The following is the operation cadence:  Launch is Charge, Abort is Wash, Proceed is Bulls Eye.  Page two, listed is the target, with longitude and latitude.  Target is Viper. Operation Center is Archangel.”  The Captain continued the time frames, operation perimeters, and contingence plans.

                “Jackson, Stacey, was there any objections to the advisement?”

                “There were a few objectors, but they soon sat down when they realized that the nation was standing behind you.  They can object all they want to their constituents, they just won’t get reelected.”

Mitchell and company sat patiently as the briefing continued.  As the time neared, eyes became fixed on the clock on the wall.  At 8:30 a.m., the Captain took his seat and issued the command to start the laser signal for targeting.

                “Archangel to Alpha; start the music.”

                “Alpha to Archangel, the music is playing.”

                “Archangel to Shotgun, do you copy the music?”

                “Shotgun to Archangel, we copy the music.”

                “Archangel to Bravo; start the music.”

                “Bravo to Archangel, the music is playing.”

                “Archangel to Longbow, do you copy the music?”

                “Longbow to Archangel, we copy the music.”

                “Archangel to Delta; start the music.”

                “Delta to Archangel, the music is playing.”

                “Archangel to Slingshot, do you copy the music?”

                “Slingshot to Archangel, we copy the music.”

The ‘music’ was the laser pinging of the target, the Al-Karzah estate, located north of Tehran between the Capital and the Caspian Sea.  The pinging was being done from three different locations looking into the compound, insuring accurate delivery of at least one of the missiles.  The Captain stood and walked to a command table behind him to confer over the orders.  At 9 a.m., the Captain took his seat, and issued the launch code.

                “Archangel to Shotgun, Charge.”

                “Shotgun to Archangel, Cavalier is away.”

                “Archangel to Longbow, Charge.”

                “Longbow to Archangel, Honesty is away.”

                “Archangel to Slingshot, Launch Crossbow.”

                “Slingshot to Archangel, launching Crossbow.”

Within several moments, two cruise missiles were in the air en route to their destination.  Meanwhile an F-16 took off from Al-Udeid Air Base en route to a designated staging point.

9:30 a.m.:

                “Archangel to Slingshot, Crossbow Charge.”

                “Slingshot to Archangel, copy. Crossbow Charge”

                “Slingshot to Crossbow, Charge.”

                “Crossbow to Slingshot, Whisper away.”

                “Slingshot to Archangel, Whisper is away.”

10 a.m., the President picked up the phone in the private conference room and pushed a button.

                “Mary, get me the President of Iran.”  It took 5 minutes to get the call put through.  Farrokh Zardooz, President of the Islamic Republic of Iran, was awaiting the call.  Williams had called the Iranian Foreign Minister the previous day to arrange for Zardooz to be in the office for the call.

                “President Zardooz, thank you for taking my call.”

                “President Mitchell, I was told you needed to speak to me concerning events in the region.”

                “Yes.  President Zardooz, do you know who the Sheikh is?”

                “I have heard of the man.  He is a proponent of a unified Islam.”

                “I am greatly concerned about this ‘Sheikh’ and his activity as it involves the recent unrest in Pakistan, Afghanistan, and Iraq.  We have learned that he orchestrated the events in order to quietly seize power to bring his philosophy to reality.”  Mitchell listened as his words had been translated.  Beside the President a translator sat, monitoring the call and translating the responses of Zardooz.

                “I am aware of the recent activity, but was not aware that the Sheikh was behind it.  I feel even more comfortable with the actions now.  Are you planning to strengthen your position in the region?”

                “Sir, what I said to the United Nations is the truth.  I am not here to nation build.  I have no issue with peoples and nations joining or dividing.  If nations join together by joint agreement of the people of both nations, I will be among the first to extend my hand in friendship.  But, if a tyrant attempts to impose his will upon people and governments for the purpose of his pride and arrogance, I will speak up and if necessary, act.  Are you prepared to step down and hand the leadership and the military of Iran over to him?”

                “I have no plans to do that at all?”

                “President Zardooz, that is exactly what the Sheikh wants.  How do you think the Islamic Defense Force was able to double its size after moving into Pakistan?  It absorbed the Pakistani military and then deployed them in Afghanistan.  He did the same with the Afghanistan military.  The Sheikh views a unified Islam as being unified in religion, politics, military, and geography with himself as the Caliph of Persia.  He has partial control of Pakistan and Afghanistan to your east and is fighting to gain control of Iraq to you west.  That places you in the center of his scope.”

                “President Mitchell, I am not stepping down and I am not afraid of him.  If he plans to take Iran as part of his empire, he better be prepared for a fight.”

                “So you do not know who this person is or all that he has done?”

                “No I don’t.”

                “President Zardooz, the Sheikh is dangerous.  I have evidence that he was behind the assassination of President James Hart, a man who extended an olive branch to you and your people.  James Hart was acting to bring peace between our two nations; a peace that Hart intended to spread around the globe; a peace that the Sheikh does not want.  President Zardooz, if he killed James Hart to get what he wants, what makes you so sure you’re safe?”

                “Mitchell, are you trying to scare me?”

                “No, I’m telling you why I’m hunting him.”

                “President Mitchell, do you know who this man is?”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Archangel to Shotgun, status of Cavalier?”

                “Shotgun to Archangel, music is playing, Cavalier is on course and true. “

                “Archangel to Longbow, status of Honesty?”

                “Longbow to Archangel, music is playing, Honesty is on course and true. “

                “Archangel to Slingshot, status of Whisper?”

                “Slingshot to Archangel, music is playing, Whisper is on course and true. “

*     *     *     *     *

                “Father, Allah has blessed you.  Your enemies are under your feet and your hand holds the nations firmly.”

                “Yes Danyal, I am blessed.  Not even the Americans can stop Allah’s hand now.”

                “In time, you will take your place as the tip of Allah’s sword.”

Abbud bin Al-Karzah sat in his living room with his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren around him, each child presenting a simple gift to him.

*     *     *     *     *

                “President Zardooz, I do know who the man is and that is part of the reason for this call.”

                “Who is he?”

                “He is a friend who will betray you.  You will not be able to stand against him, especially when he has the nuclear armory of Pakistan in his hand.”

                “Tell me his name and I will send him on his way to face Allah.”

                “The man is Abbud bin Al-Karzah.”

                “You lie.”

                “Why would I lie?  The man’s own aide has confirmed his identity.  Our intelligence has confirmed his identity.  He murdered our President and he will betray you.”

                “No, this cannot be.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Archangel to Shotgun, Bulls Eye.”

                “Shotgun to Archangel, copy, Bulls Eye, the music is strong and Cavalier is on course and true. “

                “Archangel to Longbow, Bulls Eye.”

                “Longbow to Archangel, copy, Bulls Eye, the music is strong and Honesty is on course and true. “

                “Archangel to Slingshot, Bulls Eye.”

                “Slingshot to Archangel, copy, Bulls Eye, the music is strong and Whisper is on course and true. “

The missiles have reached the point of no return.  The mission will be seen through.

*     *     *     *     *

                “Father, what will you do when the princes kneel before you?”

                “I will humbly accept their calls to serve and lead.”

                “And what about the Americans?”

                “The Americans will be as a muzzled ox, led about on a rope.  They will be ours to strip of their wealth as we dispatch their arrogance and leave them in abject humiliation.“

*     *     *     *     *

                “Yes it can be.  He is a murderer.  And since he murdered Hart, he will not hesitate to remove you.  He has a taste for death, killing whom he wishes; he believes he can act with impunity, that the world will sit by while he makes himself king.  I cannot, I will not permit him to go unpunished for his shedding of blood, especially innocent blood.”

                “What will you do?”

                “I will remove him.”

                “If you lay a hand upon him here in Iran, I will deem your action as an act against all Iran.”

                “If you oppose me, you oppose the United States.  And I will lay the murders at your feet.  Then you will be punished as well.  James Hart came to you in friendship, and you’re turning your back upon him?  You do not want to do that.  Do you dare to stand face to face with me?”

                “You speak tough words.  I am not afraid of you.”

                “I will not let Al-Karzah rejoice for long over the murders he has committed.  I did not back down from North Korea.  I was willing to go to war and destroy them if necessary, for the sake of peace in the region.  I will not back down from you.  If you protect Al-Karzah, you are guilty of Hart’s murder.  I will punish all those involved.  Al-Karzah will be punished.  Do you protect him or do you protect your people?”

There was a long pause from Zardooz.  Finally, the Iranian President spoke in a contrite voice, “How will you eliminate him?”

                “I will choose the means and the place.  The wrath of the United States is towards the guilty, not the innocent.  He did this and we know his sons were involved, especially Mohammad.  We will not act in a manner that endangers the innocence of your nation.”

                “I have your word that it is Al-Karzah only.  You will not publicly target him, you will not place citizens at risk?”

                “You have my word.  No public execution placing citizens at risk.”

                “When will you act?”

                “I will act when I believe it is safe and proper.”

                “Do you extend the olive branch as Hart did?”

                “Yes, that is why I am talking to you now instead of simply acting.”

                “Thank you.”

                “Thank you.  I hope that a friendship can exist between our nations.”

*     *     *     *     *

On the main screen in the Situation Room, the satellite feed continued to play. In the lower corner, a time display ticked away.  The clock showed 19:15 local time.

*     *     *     *     *

                “Abbud, I spoke with the American President.”

                “Really, what did the infidel have to say?”

                “He said you are the Sheikh, and that you instigated the unrest in the region to gain power.”

                “Farrokh, my friend, he fears us, so he makes up such a story.”

                “He has evidence that you killed James Hart.”

                “My friend, again he lies out of fear.”

                “I don’t believe he is afraid or lying.  The world knows the North Koreans backed down from him.  He has not lied to anyone yet.  He called me to warn me about you.”

                “He is an infidel who does not know the depths of our friendship.  What else did he say?”

                “He stated that he would remove you.  He did not give particulars, but he did say he would not permit you to rejoice in the death of James Hart long.”

                “The arrogant infidel, he did not learn his lesson.  I will deal with him again.”  The Sheikh thought out loud, not thinking about who was listening.

                “So you did murder Hart.”

*     *     *     *     *

The clock on the screen read 19:28.  All eyes were on the screen. The clock read 19:29 and the screen flashed white.

*     *     *     *     *

                “Abbud.  Hello?  Abbud?”  All Farrokh Zardooz heard was a high pitched buzz.

*     *     *     *     *

                “Longbow to Archangel, Honesty has impacted, Copy?”

                “Archangel to Longbow, Copy, Honesty has impacted.”

Before Archangel could finish his response, another bright flash appeared on the screen.

                “Shotgun to Archangel, Cavalier has impacted, Copy?”

                “Archangel to Shotgun, Copy, Cavalier has impacted.”

                “Archangel to Bravo, confirm impact.”

                “Bravo to Archangel, we have impact, structure was hit, communications tower down.

                “Archangel to Alpha, confirm impact.

                “Alpha to Archangel, we have impact, primary structure down, numerous personnel down, no sign of survivors from the primary structure.  Surviving security is wandering, several are scouring debris for survivors.  Archangel, Archangel, we have impact.”

The screen went white from the explosion as Alpha was reporting, then dark from all the debris and dirt thrown up in the air.

                “Slingshot to Archangel, Whisper has impacted, Copy?”

The President stared at the screen as tears ran down his face.  I love you, Constance.  I love you.

                “Archangel to Slingshot, Copy, Whisper has impacted.”

                “Archangel to Delta, confirm impact.”

                “Delta to Archangel, waiting for dust to settle.”

                “Delta to Archangel, Whisper has impacted.  No survivors, all structures destroyed.  Delta to Archangel, Copy?”

                “Archangel to Delta, Archangel Copies.  Archangel to musicians, you have recon inbound.  Hold positions”

Within ten minutes several US Army Black Hawks set down and a recon team deployed.  After several minutes of shifting debris, confirmation was made of Al-Karzah and his sons.  Radar showed unfriendlies inbound as the recon plus three were leaving.

                “Archangel to all positions, Angels have been Avenged.  Archangel to all commands, Archangel out.”

*     *     *     *     *

2 p.m. eastern standard time, all the television and radio networks broke from their normal broadcasting to carry an address by President Mitchell.

                “Ladies and gentlemen, we as a nation have faced a number of challenges over the past 35 days.  In the past, people asked, ‘Where were you when JFK was shot?’   ‘What were you doing when Challenger exploded?’  ‘Where were you when the World Trade Center collapsed?’  And most people could tell you exactly where they were and what they were doing.  Now the question asked is, ‘Where were you when James Hart was shot?’”

                “The assault on the Presidency of the United States was only the first event.  This nation saw a challenge to the Constitution, the authority of the Presidency contested, a prelude to war on the Korean Peninsula, and upheaval in the Middle East.  The Constitution stood, the authority of the Presidency is settled, and peace is returning to the Korean Peninsula.”

                “In the Middle East, nations are being challenged by their populaces to provide responsive government.  I have been asked what our response is to the turmoil.  What right does this or any other nation have to interject itself into the political process of another nation?  We wouldn’t want outside influences involving themselves in our issues.  If nations should choose to be allies or even merge together, do we have a right to say no?  We are members of NATO, of the Organization of American States, and of the G-8: no one is going to prevent us from participating in these and other associations.  We cannot prevent any nation from joining together or associating together to insure its political or economic security.”

                “But are we seeing a grassroots movement for political change or are we seeing intervention by an outside source?  This question has been thoroughly explored by our government as well as others.  We have learned that a person, referred to as ‘the Sheikh’, has been plying influence on the media and through university professors and certain clerics to stimulate unrest within the nations of Pakistan, Afghanistan, and Iraq.”

                “The Sheikh has used the unrest as opportunities to destabilize the governments of those countries and to seize control of their militaries.  All this is being done, not to restore peace " a peace he disrupted, but to place himself as the head of a restored Persian empire.”

                “And why is this of concern for the United States?  This Sheikh, one Abbud bin Al-Karzah, poses a threat to all nations.  By seizing the governments and militaries of the affected nations, Al-Karzah places himself in a position to subjugate the other states and nations in the region.  We are concerned about a potential nuclear threat from Iran, yet through the deployment of the Islamic Defense Force, Al-Karzah holds the Pakistani nuclear arsenal.  The combined military components make his force the fourth largest army in the world.  And if allowed to control the Iraqi oilfield and influence the Iranian oil fields, his economic assets rival that of the Saudi’s.  This is nothing less than a repeat of 1938 Germany under Adolph Hitler.”

                “Meanwhile here in the United States, we have sought those involved with the assassination of James Hart.  A special investigator was appointed by the United States Attorney General’s office and was assisted by liaisons from various federal and local agencies.  Deputy Assistant Attorney General Ronald Agnew has concluded the investigation, and presented evidence before a federal grand jury of and for the Federal Circuit in Washington D.C..”

                “During the presentation of evidence, an attempt was made on the life of DAAG Agnew, resulting in the death of a Secret Service Agent as he smothered a grenade with his body.  As a result of a thorough investigation, indictments were obtained against those involved in the assassination.  Those indictments were unsealed at noon today.  Amongst those indicted for the assassinations of President James Hart, First Lady Carolyn Hart, and Constance Mitchell, wife of the Vice President were Abbud bin Al-Karzah, and his son Mohammad bin Al-Karzah.”

                “Abbud bin Al-Karzah ordered the assassinations of President Hart and myself, to prevent the diplomatic and military intervention of the United States, in order to act against the sovereignties of nations in the Middle East.”

                “Having the knowledge of the investigation and foreknowledge of the indictments and having conferred with Congress, I, Joshua Mitchell, President of the United States, issued the order to execute Abbud bin Al-Karzah and Mohammad bin Al-Karzah for the capital crimes they committed against the United States.  At 11 o’clock this morning, cruise missiles struck the Al-Karzah compound, north of Tehran, Iran, killing Abbud and Mohammad bin Al-Karzah.”

                “I have spoken with the President of Iran, assuring him that our actions have been solely in response to the crimes committed by Al-Karzah and not against the people and government of Iran.  It is our hope to one day take the hand of Iran once more in friendship, continuing the efforts of James Hart extending his hand to the peoples of the region.”

                “As for the details of the investigation, those details will be presented to the full Congress and will be made available to the public following the prosecution of those involved, to insure a fair trial for all.”

                “My fellow Americans, we have faced pain and challenges over these past five weeks.  Your government stands and together we have more challenges to face.  But those challenges are not so great that we, you and I together, cannot overcome them.  This nation is not one that staggers, but is strong and solid; the United States of America continues to be the desire of the world.  We will continue to stand as a just nation, a land of the free and the home of the brave.”

                “God bless you and may God bless the United States.”

 

 

XXXIV

 

                “George, I am surprised by your call.  How is everything with your crocs?”

                “They are safe and thriving, now that your Marines aren’t hunting them for boots.  I am calling to see how my favorite Yank is doing?”

                “I am doing fine.  And thank you again for putting up with my Marines during the Korean situation.”

                “It was my pleasure to be able to assist you.  So, Joshua, how are you really doing?  Both David and I have been concerned.”

                “Physically, I am getting stronger.  Emotionally, life is a roller coaster.  I feel like a heavy weight has been lifted off my shoulders, since yesterday.  Last night I had a good cry.”

                “It will take time Joshua, but you are strong.  A weaker man would have already been crushed.  I understand James is paying you a visit next week.”

                “Yeah.”

                “Try not to sound so excited.  What’s the matter?”

                “Let’s just say I’d rather have a root canal without Novocain than play host to Wilson.  George, when I called you and everyone else, I was shown the dignity of the office.  When I talked about Korea and the IDF, you listened, you offered help, you provided intel.  Everyone did, except Wilson.  He talked down to me rather than with me.  I didn’t get one scrap of intel.  He’s supposed to be my number one ally, yet he brushed me off.”

                “Josh, he is an academic and he is very pompous.  And he is a good ally.  Look, you led and we all fell into step with you, with the exception of James.  Keep on leading us and he will fall into step as well.”

                “I’m just concerned there will be a duel in the hallway before we make it to the State Dining Room.”

                “Then just aim for his gun hand.”

                “Really George, I should just aim for his gun hand?  I prefer one to the head and two to the chest.”

                “Okay, as long as its cap pistols at 20 paces.  Regardless, my money is still on you.”

*     *     *     *     *

Wednesday afternoon found the President once more wearing his tux in the State Dining Room.  Again Mary Johnson and the White House tailor were in the dining room along with Miss Suzuki, in her white evening gown.

                “I really need to learn how to tie this thing.  Miss Suzuki, will you work your magic, please?”

                “Certainly.”  Stetson stood tense with his eyes closed as Élan stepped forward and tied the tie effortlessly.  Suzuki stepped back and pressed play on the remote.  “Tony needs to see you dance.”

The President took Élan in his frame and began to dance.  She noticed a subtle change in his demeanor and wasn’t sure if it was her talk with him or yesterday’s event.

                “Yes, the tuxedo fits well.  You look like a million dollars, Mr. President.”  The tailor continued to slowly circle as the two danced.

                “Élan, thank you for all you’ve done, getting me ready.”

Élan blushed.  “Mr. President, not all the dances will be vanilla waltzes.”

                “I think I can adapt.”

                “I hope so, sir.  Mrs. Wilson is comfortable with the waltz, but the Duchess is more partial to the Latin beat.  And talk is, she is good.”

                “She is.  And I owe her a ‘real’ dance from our visit to London last year.”

                “Then we will focus on the Rumba, Cha Cha, and Tango for the rest of our practices.”

The music stopped.

                “Mary, your turn.”

The music started again.  Stetson closed his eyes for a moment then opened them again and started dancing.  Élan noticed that a confidence was there that she hadn’t seen for some time.  She knew she was actually watching the President of the United States dance; not just some guy in a tux.  He’s ready.

*     *     *     *     *

Friday morning, the Senate convened to vote on the confirmation of Todd Williams as Secretary of State.  Williams sat in the Oval Office fidgeting on the couch as Mitchell poured him a cup of coffee.

                “Todd, relax.  You were calmer when you dealt with the North Koreans.”

                “Were you nervous when they were voting to elect you as Vice President?”

                “Of course, it is only natural.  I had one advantage over you.  It didn’t matter to me if I was elected, because I was only taking the job as a favor to Jim Hart.”

Williams stood and paced the floor.  Mitchell turned his mp3 on and pulled out several decks of cards as movie themes played in the background.  At the moment it’s the theme from ‘Air Force One’.

                “Todd, have a seat.” Mitchell started shuffling the 2 decks together.  “Cut the deck.”

                “I’m not good at poker.”

                “This isn’t poker.  It’s a version of rummy.  This hand you get six cards…”

The two men had been playing cards for 35 minutes.  Williams was one of those people who doesn’t like to lose.  And he had been focusing so much on the game that he nearly forgot about the voting.

                “Boss, you have Senator Perkins on the phone.”

                “Put him through, Mary.  Stacey, what news do you have for me?”

                “Joshua, the Senate confirmed Williams 87-11.  Congratulations.”

                “Thank you Stacey.  Mr. Williams is here with me; let me put him on the phone.”  Mitchell handed the receiver to Williams.  “Mr. Williams, Senator Perkins for you.”

                “Senator Perkins.”

                “Mr. Williams, I am advising you that the Senate has confirmed you as Secretary of State.  Congratulations Secretary Williams.”

                “Thank you Senator Perkins.  I won’t let you or the President down.”

Williams hand the phone back to Mitchell.

                “Stacey, thanks for making his day.”

*     *     *     *     *

Late Saturday afternoon, Joshua Mitchell sat in one of the easy chairs in the Oval Office.  Opposite him sat Marshall Wallace and Condell Thomas.  And to one side was a television camera.  Behind the scenes Pete Phillips was talking to the news director.  The director checked his watch.  “Mr. President, we are go in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.”  The red light on the camera lit.

                “Good evening, I am Marshall Wallace of CNS.”

                “And I am Condell Thomas of ABS.”

“Tonight Condell and I join together to interview President Joshua Mitchell from the Oval Office in the White House.  In addition to our questions, we are taking questions from you at home for the President, via Twitter and Facebook.”  The two turned to their left and faced the President.  “Good evening President Mitchell.”

                “Good evening Condell, Marshall.  It’s a pleasure to talk to you and the American public tonight.”

                “Mr. President, the very first question that both our staffs and the public is asking is regarding your well-being.  How are you doing?”

                “Thank you for asking, Condell, I am doing well.  Each day, I am stronger physically, my mind is clearer, my emotions are steadier.  I have come a long ways, but still have a long ways to go.”

                “President Mitchell, we have a question from Lisa in Santa Fe, New Mexico.  She asks, how difficult is it to be President without a First Lady?”

Mitchell turned to his right towards the camera, as if he was talking directly with Lisa in Santa Fe.  “Wow.  Lisa, it is very painful.  Most married couples will relate to what I’m about to share.  When I go home from work, I carry the burdens of the job with me.  And when I walk in the front door of where I live, there is no one to greet me with a hug or smile, to ask me how my day went, or to share my problems or triumphs with.  I carry this job alone.  There is so much I can’t say to anyone to begin with.  But it’s amazing how far a hug and a word of encouragement can go at those moments.  There are aspects of this job that normally are handled by the President’s wife.  I haven’t experienced those moments yet, and I hope not to blunder through them too badly. ”

                “Mr. President, a follow up on that question from Lisa.  You have a State visit next week by the Prime Minister of Great Britain and members of the Royal Family.  Normally it is the responsibility of the First Lady to host the dignitaries’ wives and to assist you in presiding over the State Dinner.  How is that going to be handled now?”

                “Marshall, I have talked with Miss Élan Suzuki, the White House Social Secretary, and she has agreed to add the responsibilities of the White House Hostess to her current duties.  She served President Hart so efficiently in the past, planning the State Dinners and assisting Mrs. Hart with the visits.  The planning of the funeral, the graveside service and the reception that followed were all overseen by Miss Suzuki and I have great confidence in her ability to act as hostess.”

                “President Mitchell, you have had to handle quite a bit over the past five weeks.  At any time have you felt that the job was beyond your abilities?”

                “Marshall, that is a feeling I have every day.  Some days it starts when I wake up.”  Mitchell smiled and the two journalists laughed.  “Seriously, yes.  Any person to sits behind my desk, looks at the files I read, and deals with the issues I face, and then says no " they aren’t being honest.  Only an arrogant, narcissist would think otherwise.  This job isn’t a one-man show.  A great man picks a smart team to work with, to insure the job is done right.  That is the team I inherited from James Hart.”

                “Mr. President, what qualifications do you possess to be President?”

                “That was blunt, Condell.  I have experience in budgetary matters.  As a lieutenant on the Sheriff’s Department, I was an aide to the Undersheriff and was responsible for budgeting for the entire Department.  As for negotiations, I had numerous opportunities to perfect my skills as a shore patrolman and as a Deputy.  I have had plenty of experience in planning of operations for possibly explosive situations.  And I bore the confidence of President James Hart and Congress, to be chosen as Vice President of the United States.  And as such, I had two wonderful years of tutoring by Jim Hart, to hone my leadership skills.  And I believe the past five weeks have borne out my abilities to do this job.”

“I apologize for how that question came out, Sir.”

                “Condell, don’t apologize for doing your job, unless you are performing it in an unprofessional manner.”

                “Mr. President, you mentioned the team you inherited from President Hart.  That team has changed some.  We have heard differing stories; what happened?”

                “Several Cabinet members felt that it was necessary to step down.  Their undersecretaries are more than competent to perform the duties of those vacated positions.  Since then, Todd Williams has been confirmed as Secretary of State.  Todd is an excellent choice, having proven himself repeatedly over the past five weeks.  And it is my intention to nominate Frank Anderson to fill the vacancy as Secretary of Defense.  Again the past weeks were a baptism of fire for this administration, and during the intense heat, Frank proved he was strong enough to lead at my side.  During the Korean situation, they were my one-two punch.”

                “Mr. President, we have a question from Larry in Spokane, Washington.  Larry asks, was it necessary to face North Korea militarily?  Weren’t you putting the United States at risk for yet another war?”

Again Joshua turned towards the camera.  “Larry, it was necessary to confront North Korea.  It wasn’t until we confronted them in the diplomatic arena that we confronted them militarily.  We had spoken with everyone concerned in the region, before acting, and even went to the United Nations.  And yes, I was placing the United States at risk for yet another war.  Anytime the United States military deploys, there is the risk of war.  We were faced with a choice; either we who have the means to stand up to North Korea do so, or we let them do as they please as we tell our allies, so sorry, too bad.  As long as I’m the President, the United States will stand up to the bullies " whoever they may be.”

                “Mr. President, a follow up to Larry’s question.  What response were you prepared to initiate?”

                “Marshall, we were prepared to inflict sufficient pain and suffering upon the North Koreans to make them say ‘Uncle’.  Our response was not going to hit now and then rebuild later.  It’s been said, ‘War is Hell’; it should be.  If I’m going to fight a fight, it’s not going to be ‘fight to a line and hold it’, while my opponent tries to take land at the cost of my men.  I am going to hit hard, hit fast, and make them regret they started the fight in the first place.  And I’m not going to reward someone for trying to punch me in the nose.  If I have to knock down a city, I’m not going to rebuild it for them; that’s the price for going toe to toe with us in battle.”

                “President Mitchell, isn’t that harsh?”

                “Yes it is Condell, and so is death.  So is land taken and citizens enslaved.  But what does any aggressor nation learn if we rebuild things for them?  War is harsh and cruel.  Why should I reward an enemy for killing American soldiers?  Life is too valuable to throw away.”

                “Mr. President, was the prosecution of Speaker Tolebridge politically motivated?”

                “No, it was Constitutionally motivated.  Marshall, you know the Constitution better than most politicians, and you know what it says about Presidential succession.  The 25th Amendment clearly states that the Vice President becomes President upon the death of the President.  Mr. Tolebridge wrongfully took the oath of office, and when confronted, he refused to relinquish the office of the Presidency.  He even attempted to have me forcefully removed from the Oval Office.  These were acts of Treason against the United States, not against me.  Marshall, if these were trumped up charges that were politically motivated, why did Mr. Tolebridge plead guilty to all the charges?”

                “You confronted him and he actually tried to forcefully remove you from the Oval Office?”

                “Yes he did.  The night of the assassination, I responded to the White House from George Washington Medical Center and found him in the Oval Office at the President’s desk going through files from the President’s safe.  He was given the opportunity to step down and return to the Capitol.  His response was to have me forcefully removed from the office.  That was after his offer of allowing me to remain as his Vice President.”

These details and the fact that the events were captured on video were never made public.  The revelation of the extent of Tolebridge’s actions left the two interviewers momentarily stunned.

                “President Mitchell, that was quite brazen of the Speaker.”

                “And it was quite illegal as well.  He violated the Constitution he swore to uphold and he violated the trust of the nation in doing so.  His actions were those of a coup.”

                “Mr. President, Nick in Kansas City asks why it was necessary to kill Al-Karzah?  Shouldn’t he have had his day in court?”

                “Nick, it would have been great if we could have put Al-Karzah on trial in a court of law.  It would have been great to have put bin Laden on trial in a court of law.  We couldn’t, because as soon as we announce their indictments, they go underground and when we would get close members of the media, thinking they are so clever, expose our means of tracking them, and then the bad guys change what they were doing and we lose them again.  We had one chance to act without the bloodshed of American soldiers and the risk of war with Iran.  Nick, we had one chance and we had to take it.  Five days prior to his death he had a Secret Service agent murdered outside a Washington courtroom and attempted to have an Assistant Attorney General murdered.  Those lives in addition to the lives lost on the Capitol steps, the family members of the hit squad murdered in Mexico, and those he track and tried to kill here in the United States.  That doesn’t address what he was doing in the Middle East.”

                “Mr. President, what did he do in the Middle East?”

                “He was behind the attempted takeovers of the United States, United Kingdoms, and the Russian Embassies in Iraq.  He was behind the coups in Pakistan and Afghanistan.  He was behind the violence in Iraq.”

                “Sir, you have your political platform on the White House website.  You list more than just what your stand is.  Why is it so important to tell us why you hold those beliefs?”

                “Condell, do you cook the roast whole or do you first cut the end off?”

Thomas had a confused look on her face, “I cut off an inch or two first.  Why?”

Mitchell smiled.

                “Condell, a woman had her family over for dinner one Sunday afternoon.  She was in the kitchen preparing a pot roast when her daughter asked her why she cut the end of the roast off. …"

*     *     *     *     *

The elections in Pakistan started early Sunday morning.  The voter turnout was heavy.  There was much talk the previous week concerning the President embracing some of the political reforms and calling for the Parliament to also do so, while retaking his office and ordering the military home. 

The return of Pakistani military to their bases caused some tensions, as some resistance was offered up by the IDF to vacate bases, especially those thought to have nuclear weapons stored there.  With the deaths of Al-Karzah and his family, the leadership of the IDF was shaken to the point of near collapse.  With the return of the Pakistani military, the IDF forces in Afghanistan were crippled,

Many of the Islamic media outlets were silent on the deaths of Al-Karzah, though several larger papers and one major network put out details of an attempted coup through the manipulation of the media by unnamed persons.

Over the previous week and a half, members of Parliament walked their districts shaking hands and knocking on doors.  Despite the media opposition, the Parliamentarians were endearing themselves to the voters as a result of the personal campaigning that was going on.

By early evening, most polling places were reporting that the wait was 30 to 60 minutes to vote.  It wasn’t until late Monday morning that results could be announced.  87 percent of the Parliament seats received favorable votes confirming them.  And President Abbas was reelected by an overwhelming vote.

Mitchell called Abbas to congratulate him.  Then he placed a call to Moshe David.

                “Moshe, my friend.  How are you doing?”

                “Joshua, I’ve been expecting your call.  My friend, Israel has much to thank you for what you have done.”

                “What have I done?”

                “You have broken the back of the IDF.  And in doing so, you have brought balance to the region.”

                “If you are referring to Al-Karzah, I simply was delivering justice on behalf of the people of the United States.  As for returning balance to the region, you can thank the Pakistani people.  They were wise enough to realize the treachery that was facing them and chose to reassert their national sovereignty.”

                “Joshua, you have proven yourself faithful to our friendship.  You have gained the respect of many here in Israel.  If there is anything we can ever do for you, please ask.”

                “Respect is a precious commodity, Moshe.  Your respect is enough.”

                “You have it, Joshua.”

                “I called to make sure all was well there.  Do we still need to go poking hornets’ nests?”

                “We are fine.  The hornets have moved on.”

                “If you should need me, don’t hesitate to call.”

                “I won’t.  Be good Joshua.”  Moshe David hung up his phone.  Alf was right.  This Lion isn’t safe, but he is good.

*     *     *     *     *

Tuesday morning, the polling results were in from the Presidents interview.

                “Boss, the public loved you.  Most of the comments we received were that what you said made sense and that the viewers could tell that you spoke from the heart and were genuine.”

                “Mike, can I see that?”

                “Sure Pete.” 

Phillips scanned the reports.  “Boss, the public loved the fact that you actually turned in to the camera to address the questions from social media.”

                “Pete, what did they say about the Boss going after the media?”

                “I’m looking for that one.  Here it is, 87% agree with the President that the media oversteps their boundaries.”

                “I thought the public would eat me alive on that one.  You know how everyone loves to talk, and the right to know trumping the need to know.”

                “Yes, but when you mentioned that hundreds of military died after the press leaked we were tracking bin Laden’s cell phone, and perhaps we could have pulled troops out sooner; that hit a nerve with a lot of people.”

                “Pete, is there anything on the issue of responsibility?  Condell didn’t like it when I said that bad government was the fault of an irresponsible public simply voting for the incumbent or that the problem is with the other bad Congressmen and not with theirs.”

                “Most people show discontentment with Congress, but it’s the other guys fault; no one wants to place the blame on their own Congressman.”

                “Until that problem is fixed we’re facing an uphill fight in the mud.”

*     *     *     *     *

Wednesday evening, Stetson stood in the hall, just outside the House Chambers.  His palms were sweaty, and his leg ached somewhat.  Even though he still used the cane a bit, it was decided it would be more Presidential if he didn’t use it tonight.  The plan was to shake lots of hands to cover for his moving slowly.

Mitchell was wiping his hands with his handkerchief for the umpteenth time, when the Chamber door began to open.  The Sergeant at Arms announced, “Mr. Speaker, the President of the United States.”  Joshua Mitchell began his slow trek to the rostrum in the Speakers Well.

After standing at the rostrum for five minutes, the applause began to die down.  Mitchell smiled and waved to various persons throughout the Chamber.  Finally everyone took their seats and he was able to begin.  Joshua scanned the gallery and observed an empty chair " the seat reserved for the First Lady.  And for a moment, the President stood there lost.  And as he paused for a moment, it seems as if every head in the chamber turned to that empty seat. 

Mitchell closed his eyes and lowered his head.  Please help me get through this.  He opened his eyes and raised his head to face the audience.  “Mr. Speaker, Madam Vice President,” once more applauds began, this time for Whitney Marshall.  Marshall smiled and blushed at the attention.  “Ladies and gentlemen of the House and Senate, Honored members of the High Court, of the Cabinet, and the offices of this Nation.  And most importantly, my fellow Americans.  I am honored to stand before you this evening.

                I would be remiss if I did not first say to each and every one of you, thank you.  Thank you for your kind words, warm wishes, and your prayers.  They have been greatly appreciated and have strengthened me and the leadership of this nation on a daily basis.  Thank you.

                Before you this evening, is evidence of the resolve of this nation to stand and to move forward.  Not just a new President, but seated behind me a new Speaker of the House and a new Vice President of the United States.  No assassins’ bullets or political treachery will prevent this nation from standing solid, standing in strength, in truth, and in righteousness.  If nothing else, tonight the world knows that the United States still stands.”  This brought everyone in the chamber to their feet again.  And a minute later the applause began to quiet.

                “And now, the people of the United States ask, how do we stand?  What is my response?  We are hurting.  Our economy has been at issue for far too long.  There have been administrations who thought they could spend their way out of recession, some actually telling you that the debt was a good thing, while others thought that the nation’s debt could be postponed for another day; a day this nation should never have had to face.  Sadly, that day has come.

                We are near the tipping point best illustrated by a Bible story.  Many are familiar with the story of Joseph.  Joseph was a prisoner in the Pharaohs prison.  Joseph was also gifted by God with the ability to interpret dreams.  Pharaoh had several terrifying dreams that he couldn’t remember.  Joseph was able to know the dreams and to interpret the dreams, understanding that both dreams dealt with an impending famine.

                What did Pharaoh do with the knowledge of the dreams?  Under the direction of Joseph, the seven years’ worth of bumper crops were stored away in the storehouses of Egypt.  Thus, enough food was available for the nation during the seven years of famine.  And the people came and bought grain as they needed it.

                Unfortunately, Pharaoh understood the laws of supply and demand as well as, if not better than, our economists.  Before the famine was half way through, the Pharaoh had taken all the wealth of the people, all the livestock and property of the people and ultimately the people enslaved themselves to Pharaoh just to eat.

                How does this story relate to the status of our nation?  At least one third of our budget goes for the operation of the government.  Another third is spent of entitlement programs, the ‘the grain from the storehouses’.  And the final third is to pay the interest on our debts.  Not pay our debts, but pay the interest on our debts.  The trillions of dollars of debt this nation holds is so great, it is destabilizing our economy.  And sadly, there are far too many politicians seated here tonight who are willing to continue to grant entitlements and funding in exchange for retention of power.  In the end, you must ask yourself how much you are willing to pay in taxes and fees. 

                Are you willing to enslave yourselves to your government to survive?  At our current pace, it is only a matter of time before we will need to begin placing everyone on government assistance, regulating pay and unions, food and housing prices.  It will be a major shift from a free market economy to a socialist, government/parent economy.

                There is a solution and it will be painful to all.  First we must reform our tax code.  James Hart saw the need for such reform and was murdered in the midst of photographing publicity stills for that tax reform campaign.  Such reform will take the form of an inclusion of a fourth tax rate for those earning in excess of $10 million a year, and a progressive reduction in allowed tax deductions on the basis of net income.  This will go a long way in insuring that everyone pays their fair share without an undue burden carried by those in the middle.

                Second, we must reduce government.  How does redundancy of government agencies aid anyone?  In California, there is the local school district, and the County school district, and the State Office of Public Instruction.  Then add the U.S. Department of Education.  How has this redundancy improved our level of education?  Depending on which subject " reading, math, and science, we are ranked somewhere between 20th and 33rd.  There are numerous government responsibilities that can be handled better and more economically at the state level, rather than the federal level.

                Third, we must reduce the amount of spending in entitlement programs.  There are subsidy programs that were initiated years ago in response to a necessity.  Today we are still paying subsidies even though the need is no longer there.  And there is a need for reform in our major programs.  For example, without touching those persons already receiving social security, we can prohibit any further enrollment into early SSI at age 62, and shift the eligibility age for SSI to 70 years.  By doing these two things, according to the Congressional Budget Office, we can stabilize social security for another 50 years and experience a significant savings in government spending.

                 “If we act on just these three points and add in a balanced budget, we can see enough income to pay down large chunks of our debt in a fair, reasonable manner.  And in time the money designated for payment of loan interest can be shifted to payment of the actual loans.

                On the issue of energy, we continue to see high fuel prices.  And much of the money spent on foreign oil goes into the pockets of persons who look unfavorably upon the United States.  How would it be if we were to convert from foreign oil to domestic compressed natural gas?  The United States has the largest reserve of natural gas in the world.  Such a shift would result in job creation and a reduction in fuel costs for all households.  It would also mean an increase in our own security, here at home; American dollars spent in America and not to someone who may or may not be actively seeking the destruction of the United States.

                We also need to deal with our energy infrastructure.  It is unacceptable for eight to fifteen states to lose power because a transmission line goes down.  We need to ensure that transmission redundancies exist, so power can continue flowing to as many homes as possible.”

                On immigration, the United States must have a fair, unbiased, yet compassionate policy.  There must be a means to immigrate to this nation, without rewarding those who cheat the system.  We must address the issue of anchor babies.  Just because a child is born somewhere doesn’t automatically make them a citizen of the locale where they were born.  Imagine your child birthed in Syria in the midst of the horror of war.  Is your child a Syrian or a United States citizen?  They are a United States citizen, of course.

                But many come here to confer American citizenship upon their newborns because we take responsibility for those born here.  And we would be fools if we didn’t consider the issue of humanitarian documentation of the parents and siblings.  Is this right?  Many say yes, and many say no.  Somehow these families find a way to short-circuit the system, cutting in front of others waiting years to enter the nation legally.

                One means of dealing with this issue is the granting of citizenship to newborns on the basis of their parents naturalization.  Did you know that Chinese families pay large sums of money to come to the U.S. to give birth to their child, and then return to China to raise their child?  This was an issue we dealt with when I was in law enforcement.  What do these families do with the citizenship that their child receives?  That question is yet to be answered.  Should the granting of citizenship occur without the investment into citizenship?  Should we continue to hold our own citizenship so cheaply?  No.

                We must look beyond quotas, and costs.  Very few of us are not foreigners or descendants of foreigners.  My own grandparents emigrated from Germany to escape an environment of war and turbulence.  I have relatives who escaped one step ahead of the Communist invasion of Hungary.  I understand the need and the desire to come to America.  We are an immigrant nation, and we must be compassionate towards those seeking to join our nation.  But, we must seek out just and compassionate reform to our immigration policies.

                The issue of education is a sensitive issue in the United States.  As I stated earlier, the United States ranks between 20th and 33rd depending upon which critical subject is being discussed.  These are not good rankings.  So what is the matter?  Since the establishment of the Department of Education in 1980, more than two trillion dollars in federal funding has been spent.  I do not believe the problem rests with government spending.  So where does the problem actually rest?

                There are a number of issues involved.  What subjects are we focusing on; reading, math, and science?  Or are our teachers focusing on ethics, and social issues.  Where are the parents and how are they participating in their children’s education.  Why is so much time focused on non-rudimentary subjects?  Why are our schools graduating students who are unable to read a basic help wanted ad, fill out a job application, or balance a check book.  We are so focused of students going to college, but they leave high school without the basic skills to survive.

                These issues must be addressed.  Improved teacher’s pay is not the problem, improved class sizes is not the problem.  I remember sitting in geometry class in high school, wondering how the Pythagorean Theorem applies to real life.  And no one could answer the question other than to say it was necessary for college.  That response was not good enough for me as a high school student and it’s not good enough for me now, as President of the United States.  Education must be restructured to be applicable to the student’s real life, not a school districts reputation for college bound students.

                Thus you can expect education reform legislation later this year.

                On the foreign front, we are doing well.  I would like to publicly thank Congress for the confirmation of Todd Williams as Secretary of State.  His participation in the crisis with North Korea was indispensable.  Despite the recent unrest in the Middle East, our friendships in the region stand solid and we believe that progress can be made with Iran.  The United States continues to stand firm beside Israel and our resolve to insure their peaceful existence is not shaken.

                I have personally spoken with our allies around the world and find that we can and will continue to work side by side.

                Much has been said by others concerning the state of the nation and my ability to lead.  My leadership is only as strong as the Congress that stands with me and the willingness of the nation to trust and follow.  We are at a fork in the road, one path leads to a lush valley where we can live in peace and strength.  The other path takes us to a cruel precipice.  I have a roadmap to lead us to the valley.

                In closing tonight, let me leave you with the words of Abraham Lincoln:

                                ‘At what point shall we expect the approach of danger?  Shall we expect some                                                  transatlantic military giant, to step the Ocean, and crush us at a blow?  Never!  All the                                     armies of Europe, Asia and Africa combined; with a Bonaparte for a commander, could                                  not by force, take a drink from the Ohio, or make a track on the Blue Ridge, in a trial of     a thousand years.  I answer, if it ever reach us, it must spring up amongst us. It cannot      come from abroad.  If destruction be our lot, we must ourselves be its author and   finisher.  As a nation of freemen, we must live through all time, or die by suicide.’

                I carry this quote in my wallet as a reminder of our options.  We are faced with a choice: either we stand tall and take on the challenges we face, regardless of the pain, or we ignore the signs about us and continue to blindly trust our government to do what is right, despite the evidence that they do what is right for themselves.

                It is your choice, will you stand with me?  Will you follow?  May God continue to rest His hand upon this Nation.  May God bless you.  Good night.”

Stetson turned and shook hands with Pickerill and Marshall, and after a few words he began his trip back up the aisle.  Many were standing, reaching out to shake his hand.  Joshua shook as many as he could and made it out the door.

 

 

XXXV

 

Thursday morning the President greeted his guests.  Camera flashes filled the Blue Room as Mitchell and Wilson shook hands while Gloria Wilson stood beside her husband.  On the other side of Mitchell, Prince William and Princess Katherine stood.  Behind them were the Stars and Stripes, and the Union Jack.  After the photographers had their shots, they were sent away. 

                “Mrs. Wilson, Princess Katherine, I am Élan Suzuki, the White House Social Secretary.  If you will please follow me, we have tea for you, while the President meets with your husbands.”  Suzuki led the way to a refreshed First Lady’s Office.

As the leading ladies made their way to tea, the men made their way to the Oval Office.  Joshua, James, and William took their seats while a steward poured them coffee.  The steward left and a stifling awkwardness filled the room.

                “James, I hope you had a good flight.”

                “Yes I did.  President Mitchell, there are some serious matters we need to discuss.”

                “Such as?”

                “You made a dangerous move going to Korea by yourself.  That is the type of move that undermines the confidence of the world’s leaders.”

                “Mr. Wilson, I will ignore that you just made that statement.  I made promises to play nice and not throw sand.  Don’t force me to break my word.  So William, I understand you and Harry had quite a time on the field of honor.”

                “Mr. Mitchell.  In your ignorance of leadership, you charged into Korea.  And then you stomped around Iran, bringing us to the brink of war.”

William sat quietly, not sure what to say or do.  He simply wished he could disappear.

                “William, is polo difficult?”

                “Mitchell, don’t ignore me.”

                “James Wilson, you pompous, arrogant, flathead.  I called you.  I told you my concerns involving Korea and the Middle East.  Instead of offering support or providing intel, you lectured me, giving me a school boy lesson in global politics.  I called my closest ally hoping to speak with Churchill and instead found Chamberlain on the other end of the phone.”

*     *     *     *     *

The ladies sat in the First Lady’s Office, Suzuki pouring tea and serving finger sandwiches.

                “Miss Suzuki, please call me Gloria.  May I call you Élan?”

                “Certainly, Gloria.”

                “Élan, how is the President really doing?  We are all concerned about him.”

                “The man saw his wife murdered and he had been wounded.  He had a political leader unconstitutionally challenge him for the Presidency.  He stood between the Korea’s insuring peace.  And now he has brought justice to the men who murdered his wife and best friend.  For someone who should be curled up in a corner, he is the rock of Gibraltar.”

                “Élan, I know he and Constance were very close.  He must be in pain.”

                “Your highness, he has his good days and his bad days.  It is to be expected.”

                “Élan, please call me Kate.  Do you know what my knucklehead husband did?  He sent the kids to stay with a relative and then had an aid take me somewhere for the day.  William had no idea where we were and I wasn’t allowed to talk to him.  When I learned he was doing this to understand what Joshua is going through, I extended my absence two more days, just to help him realize the pain.  When I returned, my husband was in tears and was hugging the life out of me.  That was three days, and he knew I was alive.  Joshua must be walking through a hellish nightmare.”

                “Kate, I can’t begin to imagine what he is going through; I believe he is suffering survivor’s guilt.  It’s going to take time before he’s better.  But as I said, for someone who should be in the fetal position in the corner, he’s the Rock of Gibraltar.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “I am honored to be looked upon as Chamberlain.”

                “I wasn’t honoring you, I was accusing you.  He betrayed the British nation to Hitler, just as you betrayed the United States to North Korea.”

                “Why are you complaining, you won in Korea.”

                “Yes, and you didn’t have my back.  I was forced to go it without my best ally.  Miller provided intel and housed my Marines.  New Zealand provided intel.  Japan provided intel and ran interference with China for me.  Mulrooney offered any aid I needed.  I even had intel from Chinese sources, unofficially.  Where were you?  Sitting on your throne, sucking your thumb at 10 Downing.”

                “I don’t have to take this?”

                “Do you only betray the United States, or have you betrayed others as well?  Perhaps France, or Canada, Sweden, or Germany?”

                “William, I’m leaving.”

                “Don’t worry, I can find my way back to the embassy, Prime Minister.”  Prince William stood, walked to the coffee service, poured himself another cup of coffee and returned to his seat.

Wilson walked out of the Oval Office and was soon met by security who escorted him to his vehicle.

*     *     *     *     *

In the First Lady’s Office, Gloria Wilson’s cell phone rang.

                “Yes James?”

                “We are leaving.”

                “Already?  I’m having a lovely time with Miss Suzuki and Princess Katherine.”

                “I’m leaving.  Mitchell is a madman.  If you want to stay fine, but I’m leaving.”

                “Alright.  I’m sure we can find transportation back to the embassy.”

Gloria Wilson hung up her call.

                “James is upset.  He said President Mitchell is a madman.”

Kate pulled her phone out and pressed her speed dial for William.

                “Hi sweetie.  Is everything okay?”

                “Of course.  I’m just sitting here enjoying coffee and quiche with Joshua.”

                “Okay.  Love you, Wills.”

Kate hung the call up and put her phone away.

                “Kate, what’s going on?”

                “I don’t know Gloria.  William and Joshua are enjoying coffee and quiche.”

                “James has his snoot out of place again.”  Gloria Wilson simply shook her head.

*     *     *     *     *

                “Joshua, don’t worry about it.  James is in the wrong.”

                “I’m sad you had to sit through that.  I should have had him searched before he started wandering around.”

                “I’ve sat through worse.  And why would you have him searched?  What would you be looking for?”

                “Lighter fluid and matches.  It wouldn’t be the first time a Brit tried to burn the White House down.”

                “That was the crazy German side of the family.  You don’t happen to have a couple decks of cards do you?”

                “Actually, I do.”

*     *     *     *     *

                “Mulrooney, he accused me of betraying the United States.  He referred to me as Neville Chamberlain.”

                “Did you extend friendship to him?”

                “Of course I did. I was very cordial towards him.”

                “No James, not today; when you spoke with him on the phone.  Did you offer any sort of aid, any word of support?”

                “The man was marching all of us into another war on the peninsula.”

                “James, did you offer the man any kind of support?”

                “No.”

                “I did, and so did Miller.  Like it or not, Mitchell is the presumptive leader of the free world.  And until he betrays us, we follow his lead.  The man is smart and was prepared.  You bet against him and lost.  And you are lucky you did.  America would not have been too happy with the bodies of United States servicemen scattered over the landscape between the DMZ and Seoul.  I shudder to think what the Yanks would have done if they knew you didn’t back them.”

                “It would be my fault if there were dead Americans in Korea?”

                “Not completely.  But then again, you weren’t there covering his back.”

*     *     *     *     *

Friday afternoon, there was a soft knock on the front door to the Residence.  Joshua Mitchell opened the door to find Élan Suzuki standing just outside in her now familiar white evening gown.  She wore her hair up which made the string of white pearls and the pearl earrings stand out.

                “Élan, please come in.”

Élan set her clutch down on the table near the door and immediately tied the black tie for the President.

                “Mr. President, are you ready for your guests?  They should be here shortly.”

                “I’m as ready as I can be; hor d’oeuvres are ready in the kitchen, and wine is chilled.  The servers are in the kitchen ready when we call.  For tonight, please call me Joshua.”

Suzuki lowered her eyes.

                “Yes sir, er, Joshua.  I need to check on the servers.  They should have answered the door, not you.” 

Suzuki quickly moved to the kitchen and soon returned with one of the staff just as there was a knock again at the door.  Joshua moved to answer the door when Élan took his hand and pulled him back.  The server answered the door and then collected the Prime Ministers hat as the party entered.

                “James, William, Henry.”

                “Joshua.”  Wilson responded back, extending his hand.  Mitchell took it and shook it, then shook hands with the Princes.

                “Gloria, Kate, how did beautiful women like you get stuck with guys like them?”

                “Hey.  Maybe James, but not me.”  William was quick to respond.

                “Harry, you came here stag?”

                “I’m hoping that young lady,” pointing at Élan, “isn’t taken.”

Every head turned towards Élan, and she blushed.  Mitchell held his hand out to her and see shyly took it.

                “Harry, let me introduce you to my date, Miss Élan Suzuki, the White House Social Secretary.”  Élan blushed again as Stetson continued to hold her hand.  “Élan, Prince Henry of Great Britain.”

                “First Kate and now you, the luck of the second born.”  Everyone laughed as Harry tried to excavate himself from his faux pas.

                “Don’t worry Harry.  I’m certain there are a number of single ladies hoping for a dance with you.”

                “Mitchell, can I talk to you for a moment alone.”  Wilson’s voice was just above a whisper.

                “Certainly.”  Joshua eyed Wilson cautiously as he led the Prime Minister into his private office in the Residence.

                “Joshua, I want to apologize.  I was so absorbed in myself, I thought it more important to teach you a lesson you didn’t need, than to learn the lessons I needed to hear.  I didn’t have your back and I let you take on the North Koreans alone.  That was wrong of me.  I should have trusted you.  Please forgive me.”

                “Of course, James.”

The two men shook hands and returned to the living room.  Glasses of wine were poured, as Mitchell held his glass out.

                “A toast to our two nations, and the hopes Harry finds a dance partner.”

The glasses clinked.

*     *     *     *     *

In the State Dining Room, the guests were assembled.  Ruffles and flourishes were played as the doors opened and the doorkeeper announced the host and honored guests.

                “Announcing the President of the United States and the Prime Minister of Great Britain.  The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, and the Prince of Wales.”

The entourage entered the room with the President leading with Miss Suzuki beside him on his left and Wilson and his wife on his right.  Two steps behind, William entered holding hands with Katherine, and then Harry.  Photographers quickly descended upon the entourage.  Before any pictures were taken, Élan had stepped to the side to avoid being in the photos.  A reception line quickly formed and formal introductions were made.

As the night progressed, music filled the air.  Soon the music changed from soft background sounds to dancing music and Stetson knew the moment was at hand. 

                “Mrs. Wilson, may I have this dance?”

                “I would be honored, President Mitchell.”

As the music began, Joshua closed his eyes for a moment then opened them and began to dance.  All eyes were on the President and the Prime Minister as they danced; Mitchell with Gloria, Wilson with Élan.  The next on the floor were the Prince and Princess.  The three couples had the floor to themselves.  The couples moved gracefully around the floor and when the music ended, the guest applauded the display of grace and elegance.

Several songs played as the guest danced.  Even Harry was able to find an ample number of dance partners.  A pause in the music signaled to Joshua that his second moment had come.

                “Your Highness, I would be honored if I may have this dance with you.”

The Princess smiled and curtseyed as she extended her hand to him.  Mitchell took it and led her on to the dance floor.  The music began; a Latin beat.  The Princess raised an eyebrow as the President and the Princess began to dance.  William and Élan joined them and were soon followed by the Wilsons.

                “Your Highness, I have been reminded that you enjoy the rumba and were hoping to actually dance rather than just move around the floor.”

                “Mr. President, I rarely find anyone who is willing to truly dance with me.”

Where the President danced simple steps with Gloria Wilson, he was now moving to the faster beat employing the steps he could think of, and the Princess was laughing and doing her best to keep pace.  Soon the music ended.  Again, applause followed the dancing.  And some guests were laughing having seen the President and Princess ‘really’ dance.

                “Joshua, that was fun, but I think Gloria is jealous because her dance with you was so plain.”

                “What do you think you were doing out there with my wife?”  William was laughing, unable to look sad or stern.

                “I heard that she liked to dance and couldn’t find an adequate partner.  I couldn’t just move in a box when she came with her dance shoes on.”

                “Smooth, Joshua, smooth.  Now all my dance partners want to dance with you.”  Harry gave a small pout.

                “Harry, if this was the Palace, I’m sure the opposite would be true.”

                “I’m not so sure, Mr. President.”

The music was again playing and Stetson felt a gloved hand gently take his.  Stetson turned to see Élan Suzuki standing beside him, in a bashful manner.

                “Élan, I haven’t danced with you yet.  May I have this dance?”

                “I thought you would never ask.  Thank you Joshua.”

                “How could I ignore the most beautiful belle at the ball?” 

Élan giggled as Joshua took her in his frame and began to dance.  He closed his eyes for a moment and thought he heard a familiar voice. “I love you Joshua Robert.  I will always be with you, but I want you to live.  Not for me, but for you.”

Stetson, opened his eyes and tears rolled down his cheeks, and for a moment he thought he was looking into the face of his love, his Constance.  He blinked the tears away and she was gone, and once more it was Élan in his arm.

                “Joshua, are you alright?”

                “Yes, I’m fine.  I’m just living.”

 

 

 

Author's Note

This was cut and pasted from Microsoft Word. Having difficulty cleaning it up online. Please ignore the spacing.