American Conspiracy

by M. J. Polelle

  She didn’t know what LBJ would do.

  “Thank you, and may God bless all you brave cadets.”

  She knew what she would not do. And that was all that mattered.

  She sat down amid polite applause.

  “What are you doing?” Sebastian Senex rushed over to her. “You’re supposed to announce your resignation.”

  “I’ve changed my mind,” she said. “Read my lips. No resignation.”

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Air Force One had landed President Taylor at the Corpus Christi International Airport less than twenty miles away from a longed-for R & R on San José Island. While the Marine One helicopter underwent unexpected repairs at the airport before transporting her to the island, she would use the down time to meet the professor who changed the course of her life.

  Surrounded by Secret Service agents, Taylor took her seat in the rear of the auditorium on the campus of Texas A&M University at Corpus Christi. Despite fuming by the agents at the itinerary change, she had made the right decision in stopping off to meet her former political science professor. She’d have to wait until he finished his debate in the Performing Arts Center with a law professor from Harvard Law School. The debate topic emblazoned across the stage read: Is the House of Representatives Limited to Brock Brewster or Frank Hammer?

  Professor Chang and the Harvard professor sat at separate tables, each with a water pitcher and a glass. A lectern separated the two tables. Behind the lectern hung a screen imaging the inconclusive results of the presidential election in the Electoral College:

  TOTAL ELECTORAL VOTES: 538 WINNING VOTES: 270

  ROSCOE CORKER 265

  BROCK BREWSTER 192

  FRANK HAMMER 76

  DALLAS TAYLOR 5

  ELECTION GOES TO HOUSE: HOUSE LIMITED TO TOP THREE CANDIDATES

  CORKER IS DEAD: IS DALLAS TAYLOR ELIGIBLE?

  The sound of Chang’s voice brought back college days when Taylor had listened enraptured to his lectures as he introduced her to the world of politics. Her classmates also loved listening to this man whose ancestors had a long history as civil servants and court advisors to Chinese emperors. They immigrated to the United States during the Gold Rush to escape the political repression of the Qing Dynasty.

  In after-class discussions, he had moved from the subject matter to her future goals. Chang stilled the rage roiling within her at the injustices committed against African Americans. With his help, she transformed that rage into a constructive dynamo that powered her to the highest office in the land.

  After the university provost introduced the speakers and acknowledged the presence of President Dallas Taylor, Chang moved over to the screen to explain that with Roscoe Corker now dead, the House of Representatives should consider Dallas Taylor, along with Brock Brewster and Frank Hammer, for official election to the presidency. He supported his conclusion by noting that she already exercised the powers of that office as a former vice president elected by the Senate.

  In rebuttal, the Harvard Law professor commented that the precise wording of the Twelfth Amendment only stated the House was limited to electoral candidates “not exceeding three.” The language did not literally require the House to consider the three candidates with the highest electoral votes. The House should exclude Dallas Taylor from consideration for the presidency, he said, because even her insignificant five electoral votes were procured by five “faithless” electors from Illinois. Without permission from Illinois voters, who expected them to vote for Roscoe Corker, these faithless electors switched their votes to her.

  Taylor chuckled to herself. The whole debate was the type of impractical speculation that academics thrived on. Even if the House did consider her for president, her odds of winning the presidency were worse than finding a mole on a chigger.

  Brock Brewster was going to be the next president. With the House choice realistically limited to Brewster and Frank Hammer of the National Independent Party, she didn’t see Hammer as a serious threat. Hammer’s only smart move had been picking Professor Chang as the vice-presidential candidate for the National Independent Party.

  Even that smart play for the rising Asian American vote went sour when Hammer’s hacked email described Chang as a running mate who should be seen but not heard. A man with intellectual pretensions, Hammer nursed a jealousy of Chang’s credentials and achievements. The tension between Hammer and his wife during the campaign also didn’t help the National Independent Party. A week ago, the tension erupted into a messy divorce proceeding. For good reason, all the smart money was on Brock Brewster to win the House election for president.

  At the debate’s conclusion, the Secret Service hustled Taylor out of the Performing Arts Center. She yielded to their insistence that she confine the meeting with Chang to a farewell conversation inside the armored Cadillac One.

  Only seconds after she entered the rear seat of the Beast, as it was known, Chang joined her with a dozen red roses in hand.

  “What are these for?”

  “To the winner belong the spoils,” he joked. “You beat me fair and square for vice president in the Senate election.”

  What other rival, she thought, would have kept their friendship intact after losing the vice presidency to her? His views of himself and others did not depend on gaining political office at all costs. He was in the right political party. The National Independent Party. He was his own man, win or lose.

  “I should give you a gift for your advice on how to negotiate the South China Sea dispute with the Chinese. I’m ready to sign an executive agreement with them to resolve the major problems.”

  “It was nothing.”

  Modest man that he was, Chang had agreed to Hammer as the presidential candidate for the National Independent Party rather than risk splitting the party. In a fair world, Chang would have been at the head of the ticket and Hammer collecting tickets at the door. Hammer couldn’t see beyond the political utility of Chang’s ethnicity to her beloved mentor’s merits.

  “Your advice was crucial.” She smelled the roses and passed them to the Secret Service driver up front. “Thanks, David, for supporting me tonight as a candidate for House election to the presidency. But you didn’t have to play Don Quixote for me.”

  “What I said in the debate is what I believe. It doesn’t depend on you being the candidate.”

  “Guess I never have to worry about you licking my boots.” She gave him a hug. “Never change. My boots at the White House are already sopping wet.”

  “Goodbye, Madam President. Professors are rewarded by the successful careers of students like you. Be well.”

  As the Beast zoomed away, she wondered when and if they would ever meet again.

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  With a drink of bourbon and branch water, Dallas Taylor settled down in the rattan chair before the bay window overlooking the Texas shoreline of San José Island. Terns drifted on air currents over the Gulf, while two pelicans bobbed on the water like fishing floats. Dolphin fins broke the water and resubmerged just as quickly to make their way along the shore. Hundreds of miles away from presidential turmoil and worries, she felt at peace for the first time in a long time.

  Thanks to the mansion’s new owner, an international philanthropist and political supporter, she had the run of the place for much-needed R & R. The sun glittering off the foaming crests of waves breaking on the sand lifted her spirit. She craved rest after the near-death experience at West Point.

  Why all the fussing and the feuding in her life? Wasn’t this what she always wanted? Peace and joy. She didn’t want to end up dead like Roscoe Corker, flaming out in scandal under the pressure-cooker stresses of national politics. No need to worry. In a few days Brock Brewster would evict her from the Oval Office and force her to pursue peace and joy.

  The sweet smell of the roses on a nearby table recalled the visit with Chang at her a
lma mater and his advice on how to approach the Chinese. Until Brewster turned her out of the presidency, she’d hunker down like a jackrabbit in a Texas dust storm and fight for her upcoming executive agreement with the Chinese to resolve their major disputes in the South China Sea. The Republicans had the votes to block any treaty, but they couldn’t block an executive agreement.

  She wouldn’t have to worry for long about her backdoor maneuver around the treaty power because she was a backdoor president with a temporary term in the White House. Once the House of Representatives elected Brock Brewster, he would likely reverse the agreement with his own executive order. But at least she’d give the deal a chance.

  “Madam President,” said an aide, breaking into her thoughts. “Our phones are dead.”

  “What about TV, radio?”

  “All jammed.”

  “What’s Joe say?” Her secret service agent would know what was going on.

  “He’s using an emergency texting apparatus to find out. He checked the ferry. It’s not working.”

  Joe rushed into the room. “We must leave. Now.”

  “What’s happening?” Taylor asked.

  “Nothing good.” He looked out the bay window, right and left. “Communications across the country have been disrupted or shut down. The National Military Command Center at the Pentagon thinks it’s a foreign cyberattack.”

  “Who?”

  “Don’t know yet.”

  “What are we doing about it?”

  “A marine platoon has moved out from Quantico to guard key buildings in DC. A unit from the Tenth Mountain Division at Fort Drum in New York took a position outside the New York Stock Exchange.”

  “That’s strange. Who gave the orders?”

  “Why, General H. A. Harrison. Your secretary of defense.”

  “He’s not my . . .” Damn. He had withdrawn his resignation. She had planned to announce his dismissal when she returned to the White House in a few days. It was too late to get into a legal battle over his authority. She had been asleep at the switch.

  “What is it, Madam President?”

  “Nothing.” She sprang from her chair. “I must get to DC pronto. Is the copter ready?”

  “Marine One’s on the helipad for takeoff to Corpus Christi where Air Force One will fly you back to DC. The decoy chopper is also operative.” He did a final check out the bay window. “All clear. Let’s go, Madam President.”

  Aloft in Marine One on her way to Corpus Christi International Airport, she received a report from the secretary of state. He had patched into Marine One’s communications system, immune to cyberattacks. She heard him without the drumbeat of background noise. What he said confirmed her suspicions.

  “You’re telling me the whole thing’s a deception?”

  “All I know,” the secretary said, “is that a trusted source inside the National Military Command Center claims that’s the situation. A foreign actor is not the origin of the cyberattack.”

  “How would your source know?”

  “He’s part of a special team that oversees the technology securing the military’s communications network.”

  “Where’s the cyberattack coming from?”

  “The United States.”

  “Our military?”

  “Unclear. General John Klaine, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, will join you when you transfer to Air Force One at Corpus Christi. I suspect he knows something.”

  “Without my permission to join me?”

  “He’s fired up to see you. Will you see him?”

  “If I want to find out what’s going on, I’d better.”

  “Any instructions?”

  “Don’t let foreign countries think anything unusual is happening. Business as usual till I return to DC . . . and find out what the hell’s going on. Bye.”

  She sat back and let the brown and green patches of land out the window chill her out for a few minutes. The movement of military units without explanation merited suspicion. Hard-Ass wasn’t the real problem even though she messed up in delaying his dismissal. Whenever he was together with Sebastian Senex, his speech and body language deferred to the pharmaceutical tycoon. Her instincts screamed Senex was behind it all. She hoped it was just another bluff to pressure her into resigning. Her blood ran cold at another possibility: an attempt to take over the United States by a coup d’état.

  She had to use judgment without letting imagination run wild. No one and no group claimed responsibility for the cyberattack. Might this be a top-secret military test of American cyber defense without any sinister intent to seize control of the government?

  If so, she wasn’t informed and that bothered her. But maybe the boys at the Pentagon figured the test would be more accurate if she didn’t know at first what was up. That might be why the chairman of the Joint Chiefs was meeting her in Corpus Christi. Or was it magical thinking on her part? Everything was maybes and mights until she had a heart-to-heart with the chairman of the Joint Chiefs.

  Aboard Air Force One on the tarmac, President Dallas Taylor had barely sat down behind the desk in the “Oval Office in the sky” to meet the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff when he appeared grim faced at the door.

  Light streamed in from a cabin window to her left onto a star-studded floor marking the president’s personal space. With the Presidential Seal on the wall behind her, she waved him in. Leaning heavily on the metal prosthetic of his right leg, he stood in front of the desk.

  “The cyberattack. That’s why you’re here, right?”

  “There’s been a cyberattack on selected infrastructure.”

  “Everyone in the country’s quite aware of that, General Klaine,” she snapped. “The only question is what you know about it.”

  “I know that unless you resign the cyberattacks will continue. So will military protection of key installations in Washington, DC.”

  “What I most feared.” She gathered her thoughts. “Who’s in on this coup? General Horatio A. Harrison? Sebastian Senex?”

  “Among others. By the way, they call it . . . transitory emergency measure.” He looked like he needed sleep. “I haven’t made up my mind whether to join them.”

  “You know they’re guilty of serious crimes . . . and so are you.”

  “I didn’t know about it until they put the plan in motion.”

  “But you’re not stopping it.”

  “My decision depends on what you do.” Klaine shifted to his other leg. Pain seemed to ripple across his face. “They asked me as a neutral go-between to report back your choice . . . immediate resignation or temporary military control.”

  “Neutral?” She spat out the word, resting her clenched hands on the desk. “What about your duty to the president of the United States?”

  “I took an oath to support and defend the Constitution of the United States . . . not you. You’re violating the Constitution by entering into an executive agreement with China. You need a treaty.”

  “Isn’t that above your pay grade, General Klaine? That’s something for me, the Justice Department, and the courts. You’re supposed to protect this country, not sit on the sidelines and play constitutional scholar.” She pointed at herself. “I’m in charge. Not Senex. Not Harrison. Not you.”

  “Yes, you civilians have been in charge alright. Ever since Vietnam you civilians, presidents and Congress alike, have erased the need for a declaration of war from the Constitution while the Supreme Court looks the other way. You fight wars all over the world but never finish them.”

  He leaned over the desk into her space.

  She prepared to summon the Secret Service agents sitting outside.

  He stepped back.

  “That’s how I got this lovely-looking bionic limb. They amputated my leg after a chopper crash in Nam.” He pointed to his prosthetic. “Ever since then, yo
ung men and women like I was, kids from society’s margins, fight our wars out of sight for everybody else while everyone else gets a pass from military duty.”

  “Have you studied my political record?” She tapped the desk with her forefinger. “I’ve opposed these military interventions.”

  “You miss my point. I’m not against use of the military.” He shifted back to his prosthetic leg. “I’m against pointless wars not in our national interest. They sap our strength, plunge the country into spiraling debt, and swell the ranks of vets with PTSD who cause unrest at home. We should stand firm with our real enemy and concentrate all our force on that enemy.”

  “And who might that be this time?”

  “China.”

  “The Russians will resent the downgrade.”

  “Your sarcasm doesn’t change geopolitical facts. China will take us down unless something is done to focus on the real enemy. And that’s where you are weak. You’re letting them loose in the South China Sea. You’re wrecking the Constitution to appease them.”

  “I am the commander in chief under the Constitution you claim to support and defend.” She poked her finger at him. “You owe me loyalty.”

  “This is getting us nowhere. Will you resign?”

  “If I resign, the new Speaker of the House, Madison Malone, will take over as president under the Presidential Succession Act. Presidential selection will be further delayed until the House elects another Speaker.” Taylor shook her head in bewilderment. “How does installation of someone basically ignorant of foreign affairs accomplish what you want?”

  “Senex and General Harrison have their own vendettas against you.” Klaine sat down on the sofa across the room. “I don’t dislike you . . . personally. But I agree with General Harrison that you are about to make a catastrophic mistake by signing that executive agreement. The new Speaker also agrees and says it’s unconstitutional. She promises to stop appeasing China. That’s good enough for me.”

  “Let the Supreme Court decide if it’s constitutional.”