“Tell those sons of bitches that the environmental standards stand and that they had better start building, or I’ll rescind their fucking leases on the oil shale and the Alaskan shelf.
“They don’t want to piss me off. Hell, I’ll give the contracts to Mexico and Venezuela in payment for the gasoline we need. Tell them to move it or lose it. I will leave them out completely,” the president blurted out loudly.
“These are the companies that refine the oil, not drill for the oil, sir. There are different types of oil companies. The refiners are saying if they rebuild under these new standards, that gasoline will be at least $10.00 a gallon, and the amount they could refine would be half of what they could prior to the attacks,” Combs replied somewhat sheepishly. “They mentioned the last round of bailouts and how we gave away 1.2 trillion to big publishing and leftwing media outlets. They don’t believe it would be all that big a deal to get twenty-five billion in loan guarantees after a bailout like that.”
“Fuck them! Gas is already $6.00 a gallon, and we’re rationing it now,” the president shot back. “What did they do with all those profits they made over the last few years? Hell, they made close to a trillion dollars, what? Two years ago? They need to dig into their own pockets and do this, or I will get someone else to.”
“Yes, sir. I’m just relaying what they’re telling me,” Combs replied quietly, not wanting to appear to be challenging the president.
“Jason, I picked you as my chief of staff because you always got things done. Now, get this done,” the president chided him. “What about the bailout for the airlines?”
“It’s stalled in the House because the airlines are balking at the environmental standards that Congress wants to enact requiring them to begin the purchase of more energy efficient planes within five years and have the entire fleet revamped within ten years. The airlines are saying they just don’t have the market share or the cash reserves to do that.
“Plus, the airline manufacturers are telling me they aren’t capable of meeting that timeline, either. Both are blaming the economy. Air travel is down more than forty percent. The airlines have several hundred perfectly good planes just sitting on the tarmac.” Combs shared the challenges on yet another issue the president was backing and was now in jeopardy of failing to get the support he wanted and needed to pass into law.
“Son of a bitch, Jason! Have you stopped working? How much time are you spending driving around in that new car? You’d better find a way to get things moving before I have to find someone who will!” the president shouted, passing the buck.
“Yes, sir,” Jason replied quietly without meeting the president’s eyes.
“Hell, Jason. This is the big leagues. You better get with it before someone hands you your hat and asks you to leave. You ran an excellent campaign. Now, find out what it’ll take to get Congress moving and get them moving. Better yet, get with the Speaker and tell that old hag that I want it done or else.
“Compromise now and they’ll eat your lunch every day from now on. Don’t let her tell you no. Remind her that she owes us big time and that there won’t be any help the next time if she doesn’t play ball. Hey, do you think the wife and I can borrow that new car sometime? It’s really hot,” the president concluded, trying to make friends again.
“Anytime you want, sir,” Jason said unenthusiastically, despite knowing that the Secret Service would never let him do anything more than sit in it.
“Roger, what have you got for me?” The president turned his attention towards Roger Bascome, the National Security Chief.
“Sir, what about the loan guarantees? The refinery people are saying that they cannot rebuild without them,” Combs interjected.
“Jason, if I gave out loan guarantees to the refineries, the next thing you know the auto companies will want them, like when Chrysler almost crashed back in the seventies and when we bailed those assholes out again in 2009. You are aware they just finished paying us back, right? Five years behind schedule. These refinery companies don’t need our money. They have pockets almost as deep as we do, so they can guarantee their own damn loans.”
“The Georgian situation,” Bascome started right in as the president finished, “is growing worse by the day. Russian soldiers crossed the border again yesterday and are within twenty-five miles of Poti, their major port. They know we can’t afford a third war front and that we haven’t the personnel to send anyway. They played this very well, Mr. President. They waited until the strike on Houston to make their first move, and when the stock market dipped, they struck again.”
When the president didn’t say anything, Bascome continued, “The Mexican president is calling for us to relax all immigration requirements. He’s claiming it’s a natural progression of the NAFTA Treaty. He is also saying that he would look upon that action as a favorable thing in our growing relationship with his country and the pending oil and gas deals.”
Bascome waited again and still the president didn’t comment. He was just looking off into the distance, so Bascome went on, “That mad man in Venezuela, Hugo, is asking if he can buy oil leases off the Florida coast. Claims he’ll dedicate the oil produced to our country. I told him we had already leased them to American companies, and he wasn’t happy about that. It’s not like he made any campaign contributions or anything,” Bascome added sarcastically, which elicited a smirk from the president.
“You think we can get that bastard to pony up a couple dozen million for the rights above and beyond the lease price?” the president asked. Bascome just grinned and continued his briefing, while Combs seemed lost, making some notes in his notebook.
“China is once again making noise about Taiwan. They’re saying if we don’t back off on our trade restrictions, they will flood the financial market with our debt. They are demanding we make our future interest payments in gold or with real estate. They seemed pretty serious. They’ve even provided a list of islands they would accept in the southern Pacific as payment,” Bascome informed the president.
“I think they’re sensing blood in the water and want to take advantage of the situation. Yu Sing-Tuo, the deputy prime minister, offered to forgive a substantial part of the debt if we were to reverse our stand on Taiwan,” Bascome added.
“We can’t turn our backs on Taiwan. Hell, they hold almost as much of our paper as the mainland Chinese. Plus, we have a huge investment in them. Talk about cutting our own throat. Tell Yu that I am willing to discuss options, but we’ll need a lot more than talk of a substantial amount of debt forgiveness to even consider reversing our stand.
“As for the trade restrictions, quietly explain that I’m willing to discuss that, provided they can provide the proper economic stimulation. Recommend they use that PAC in California to handle the contributions. You know, the one out of San Francisco, Robert Wang’s group.” The president spelled out the new policy towards China for Bascome, as he made notes.
“And last, but not least, the Saudis cut production by a million barrels today, saying they’re having some mechanical problems, and it will take up to three months to fix them. However, I’m told by the CIA that the Saudis have built two new pipelines. The first pipeline cuts through the peninsula, through the Rub’ al-Khali (the great Empty Quarter), and the second one crosses through the UAE, then on to a port in Muscat, Oman.
“If it’s true, then they’ve actually increased capacity by a factor of ten, and the claims of mechanical problems don’t ring true,” Roger stated, finishing his report.
“What are the chances that they are doing it on purpose?” the president asked.
“I’d think the chances are quite good that they are. I would have thought because of our relationship they would have told us in advance. You know, I don’t understand their strategy. How does this move help the world economy?” Roger replied.
“They’ve got us by the balls, Roger. They aren’t concerned with the world economy, just their own,” the president shot back.
“Well, th
ey do expect to receive a profit from their investments,” Roger added.
“Approach that asshole Kruse in Mexico, and see if he’d like a long term contract to supply gas and oil to this country at today’s prices. Long enough to make him and his buddies some of the richest men in the world. They’ll be able to increase employment at home and line their pockets at the same time.
“Then, tell our friend in Venezuela to chill out. If Hugo can relax for just a while longer, I’ll sell him abandoned refinery properties and reduce the environmental standards, making it easy for him to get them back up and running. That way, he’ll have the largest refining capacity in the world. Hell, that should allow him to sell to China and Japan at a discounted rate and with much cheaper shipping costs than the other producers.
“It’s a real sweetheart deal. Make him understand that. But don’t forget—he pays, just like everyone else. No freebies.” Starks alluded to the bribes he was expecting, should the deal go through.
“Then call Putin. Tell that son of a bitch that I won’t be backing off on the Georgian issue. Tell him they are an ally and that we are prepared to come to their aid. After he does his little bit of drama for his staff, back off and play nice.
“Tell him that’s the official line for the American public, but if he backs away from Iran and its nukes, I’ll look the other way on the Georgian issue. If he’s willing to do that, assure him that we can continue with our other deals. We’ll look the other way on his expansion plans, but only if he backs away from the Iranians.
“If not, maybe we’ll open the gas fields in Colorado and Wyoming. That’ll make the Europeans happy and will get us NATO backing for actions against him in Georgia. I don’t think he’ll like it; hell, I don’t think he’ll believe it, so float a rumor in the Journal that we’re considering opening the bidding for those fields as an alternative to the gasoline crisis and to raise federal revenues. That’ll get him pissing in his borscht,” the president stated.
“I’m not sure I’d present it that forcefully, sir. After all, we haven’t been able to get Congress to play ball our way just yet. We may need a few more months to tie up the loose ends,” Roger explained, hoping the president would see the wisdom.
“Look, we can’t appear weak when we deal with him. I’ll have to condemn their actions, but he’s right. We can’t challenge him militarily. So, we have to bluff, if at all possible, by appealing to his greedy side, the same as with the assholes in Mexico and Venezuela. You know how to handle them, and I trust you to get it done for us. We can always renege on the deals later, like they do,” the president added with a sly grin.
“Sir, I have a couple more issues to discuss with you,” Jason interjected.
“What?” the president curtly replied as he glanced at his watch.
“The latest polls are showing a weakness in foreign policy and domestic economics. With the stock market continuing to fall daily, the index of consumer confidence is at an all-time low. Your numbers are down to the mid-thirties from the upper sixties in just two months. The pollsters are claiming the public is concerned about your commitment to fixing the economy,” Jason explained.
“The deals with Mexico and Venezuela,” Combs continued, “would go a long way to increasing those numbers. I believe the polling numbers and consumer confidence are directly tied to gasoline prices. I’d tell them anything they wanted to hear to get the deals done.”
“What the hell do you know about making deals with foreign governments? You’re a glorified secretary for Christ’s sake. If you think you can do this job, you’re welcome to it.” Roger Bascome lashed out at Combs, perceiving that he was invading his foreign relations turf.
“Both of you, shut the hell up! You sound like two old women bitching about nothing,” the president spat loudly at his two top advisors. “Roger, you better get over the ‘this is my turf’ shit. And Jason, you’d better start worrying about your job and forget about what I might do outside the country. Both of you serve at my pleasure, and I’d get some pleasure from some damn answers that show progress. Now, can you two focus on the work to be done?”
Both Combs and Bascome nodded, both raging with anger over this undeserved ass chewing. Neither of them could completely control what Starks was going to do next. The fact that they needed to compromise with people was a fact of life in politics, but the president wanted it all his way. That just wasn’t going to happen.
“Now, I like the idea that Jason proposed. Hell, doesn’t every president have a war to call his own? Yeah, Bush forty-three had Iraq and Afghanistan; Clinton had Bosnia and Somalia; Obama had the taxpayers’ rebellion.” Starks slipped that in trying to lighten the mood, but it didn’t work. Neither Combs nor Bascome looked up from their papers or even chuckled.
“Bush, the father, had the Gulf War, and Reagan had the Cold War. Maybe I could have the second Spanish American war. Let’s play with the boys south of the border, and when they’ve given us what we need, we’ll declare them enemies for trying to undermine our sovereignty. Then we’ll nationalize everything they’ve got here, maybe take over the Mexican oil fields for good measure as compensation for their meddling.
“I really can’t stand that pompous ass, Kruse. Hugo, though, down there in Venezuela, is a hell of a guy, quite a good natured fellow and a great host. When I was down there a couple of years ago, he was terrific. Let’s invite him up here to seal the deal,” the president ordered Bascome.
“Yes, sir,” Bascome replied, but deep inside he knew it was mistake to invite the dictator here. The public saw him as an anti-American thug at best.
“Now, is there anything else we need to talk about?” the president asked.
“Well, sir, Senator Bains is still harping away about your lack of domestic policy on energy, and she has been seen taking lunch with Steven Howard, who keeps attacking your foreign policy. We don’t know what was said, but it can’t be good,” Combs stated, broaching yet another sore subject.
The president looked at Bascome and asked, “I thought we had her cowed by threatening to expose her for giving special treatment to Kilauea Corp. over the new Pentagon computer systems?
“If that boy scout Howard thinks we’re going to honor his sweetheart deals that he weaseled out of the former administration, he’s got another thing coming. That is, unless he’s willing to play ball with us on our terms. I’ve got judges that’ll force him to hand over everything, just based on rumors of impropriety,” Starks snarled.
“Float more rumors about Bains,” the president continued. “Turn up the heat with the press by leaking some story about how Justice is looking into her ethics. That’ll show her we mean business. I hope she’s enjoying her last term as a senator. It’ll also help bring the rest of the damn Republicans in line. Do it!” the president spat loudly again, as his faced redden.
“Yes, sir,” Combs answered.
“Sir, would it be prudent to have closer tabs placed on the senator?” Bascome asked while making notes, but continued before the president could answer. “Right now, sir, we’ve only got a few rumors and a bit of gossip to base our actions on. It might make more sense to be more active on the senator, so that we can properly decide on a course of action.”
All three men knew that Bascome was suggesting that they should have men from NSA spy on Senator Bains and anyone she might come in contact with, even though he hadn’t exactly said that in plain English.
“Yes, yes, do it,” the president quickly replied. “Pull out all the stops. I want that bitch shut down,” he shouted over his shoulder as he made tracks to exit the Oval Office.
“Mr. President, you can’t be serious! We aren’t really going to spy on a sitting senator, are we? It’s highly illegal without a court order,” Combs reminded the president.
Spinning around forcefully, he said, “What’s the hell is wrong with you? Of course we’ll do it legally. Roger, be sure the court order is in place before you assign anyone. Does that satisfy you?” he asked Combs sarca
stically.
Reprisal!- The Eagle's Sorrow Page 11
