by Bobby Akart
Sarge’s goal was simple. He thought something of this magnitude should be voted on by all of the states at another Constitutional Convention. It was too big an issue to leave to the political bickering and backroom deals made in Congress. He felt like he could control this Congress and the vote. The next Congress would be another matter.
As he continued down the corridor, Sarge briefly poked his head into his secretary’s office to say good morning before he made a beeline to speak with the man who was making sure the vote went their way this week, his Chief of Staff, Donald Quinn.
Chapter 4
8:30 a.m.
The West Wing
The White House
Washington, DC
“Mr. President, just a reminder that the morning briefing is in thirty minutes in the Roosevelt Room,” said Betty Greer, his secretary of eight years. Betty had been a longtime employee of John Morgan’s at 73 Tremont. Completely trustworthy, she was intimately familiar with the business and financial dealings of the Boston Brahmin. Betty and Morgan’s aide-de-camp, Malcolm Lowe, had bugged out to Lowe’s family home on the Cape during the crisis. Together with members of the Lowell family, the group had found protection from the military units situated at Camp Edwards.
“Thank you, Betty.”
Sarge continued down the hallway toward the end of the West Wing, where the Chief of Staff’s suite was situated. Donald’s team was responsible for everything. They selected and supervised the White House staff. They managed communications and information flow to the media.
Donald carefully guarded access to Sarge, and in the process the Chief of Staff’s office became the mouthpiece on most occasions for the White House when negotiating with Congress, executive branch agencies, and external political groups that desired to affect Sarge’s agenda.
Several staffers huddled around the doorway to one of Sarge’s senior advisors, temporarily blocking his access to the end of the hallway. Because of Sarge’s casual attire and lack of an entourage following him, other than Morrell, his ever-present shadow, they didn’t acknowledge him in their hurried state of mind.
“Good morning, everyone,” said Sarge as he squeezed his way through the group.
Voice recognition kicked in, causing the foursome to fall over themselves to greet the president. Sarge laughed to himself as they reacted. After eight years, it was still difficult for him to accept that he would be treated like a celebrity. Most of the staff in the West Wing had been with him since the move to Washington. He knew them all on a first-name basis. Yet they still seemed giddy with excitement as he greeted them.
All but one of them, anyway. Sarge called her the Gatekeeper. Initially, he’d called her the Crypt Keeper, but Donald cautioned Sarge that she might be insulted if she overheard him. Donald’s secretary, Louise McDowell, was a warrior. Now approaching seventy, she had worked in every administration since President Reagan. Donald and Sarge often joked about who was really running things in Washington. The answer always came back the same—Louise.
Sarge approached her desk cautiously, being careful not to make any sudden moves. Louise was focused upon a computer printout, firmly and decisively either checking off an item or scratching an item off a list.
“Um, good morning, Louise. Is he in?”
“I’ll be glad to check for you,” she replied dryly. Without making eye contact, she spun around in an office chair that was nearly as old as her tenure in the government’s service, and entered Donald’s office. After a moment, she returned to her desk.
“He’s available, Mr. President. You may go in now.”
Sarge chuckled to himself. He was never able to determine if Louise was miserable in her job, gloomy in general, or simply a no-play, all-work kinda woman. Either way, it would be one of the world’s unsolved mysteries.
He poked his head into Donald’s office and found his best friend talking on the phone. Donald, who had aged more than any of them in the last eight years, had grown slightly more rotund and was now wearing glasses full time. His receding hairline was kind enough to leave him some salt-and-pepper gray around the sides of his head.
He waved Sarge in and motioned for him to close the door behind him. After a moment, he completed his call and Sarge took a seat in a Queen Anne chair across from his desk.
Sarge pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “She hates me. I’m convinced of it.”
“No, she doesn’t. She’s like that with everybody.”
“Yeah, but I’m the president. Shouldn’t she at least pretend to like me?”
Donald leaned back in his chair and laughed, causing his belly to shake with each chuckle. “Listen, Mr. President,” he said sarcastically, “you know what it’s like around here. Louise is a better gatekeeper than a six-foot-six sumo wrestler. I wanna remind you of this. If they can’t get to me, they can’t get to you. Right or wrong?”
Sarge hesitated before responding. He loved Donald Quinn like a brother. After Steven’s death, Donald stepped in and became Sarge’s right arm, and left arm, for that matter. Donald had navigated them through the Constitutional Convention, Sarge’s election, and during those early, difficult days of setting the nation on a course of recovery. After several years, when America reached a sense of normalcy, Donald was a seasoned veteran and a very effective Chief of Staff.
“I suppose.” Sarge looked at the four presentation easels that were lined up in front of the windows overlooking the South Lawn. On each easel was a large flip pad with Donald’s handwritten list of congressman and senators. His office had been turned into a war room of sorts for the upcoming vote on Pacific statehood. The next three days would be incredibly busy for Donald, and Sarge knew his friend would be stressed.
Sarge stood and approached the easels. He carefully flipped through the pages and studied the names. Those written in black were clearly for the bill; those in red, his allies in Congress, were against it.
Donald joined him to explain the charts. “The red names, as you can probably see, are going to back you in voting against the bill. As of this morning, if everyone holds, the bill will easily die in the House.”
“Political alliances aren’t as clearly defined as they were before the collapse,” said Sarge. “The country became split into four parties, with libertarians and socialists splintering off from the republican and democrat labels.”
“That turned out to be a good thing. It got you elected twice.”
“Well, it certainly helped me garner traditionally democrat votes. Once the far left of the Democratic Party pulled away into the socialist wing, moderate dems felt comfortable and readily joined libertarians in supporting me. I’m amazed at how quickly the makeup of Congress has swung back to the left.”
Donald nodded and returned to his desk. “That’s why we need to keep a pulse on this vote. The opinions regarding reunification transcend party lines. Congress is all over the place on this one. Anyway, it’s time for the morning brief. Let’s not be tardy, Mr. President.”
Sarge turned and Donald handed him his iPad Pro contained within a leather-bound BookBook case. The days of ring binders were over. Despite the pitfalls of cyber intrusions in a digital age, the White House was going paperless.
The iPad also contained Donald’s checklist, something he’d picked up from studying the history of the Kennedy White House. President Kennedy had devised a daily briefing book that included an eight-by-eight-inch packet, with a dozen matters to be accomplished during the meeting. Each checklist item contained a paragraph summary together with maps, as needed.
Donald created the same thing for Sarge in Apple Pages, a program on the iPad Pro. Sarge could quickly thumb through the topics to be addressed, and if he was interested in further background, there were clickable links to other sections of the document.
Sarge carried it with him throughout the day. The briefing changed from a once-a-day production-and-brief-engagement report or checklist, to continuous, near-real-time virtual support for the president. The team o
f staffers assembled in the old press cubicles constantly brought the briefing up to date, providing Sarge a pulse on world and domestic events.
As usual, he had precious little free time as he glanced at his schedule. About the only moments of his day without someone in the Oval Office with him were those few when he read over briefing documents for the next meeting, many of which were planned weeks in advance.
This week, however, was different. Another quick glance at the schedule showed that today and tomorrow allowed for no light moments. There were no World Series champs to host. No Eagle Scouts from Texas. Miss Idaho Potato wasn’t coming to the White House for a photo op. No, today and tomorrow would be all about the vote.
Chapter 5
9:00 a.m.
The Roosevelt Room
The White House
Washington, DC
The windowless Roosevelt Room served as a daily meeting location for the White House staff and the president’s briefings. It had been upgraded over the last several years to include a wall of televisions and a large screen for multimedia presentations. Sarge often used this platform to conduct video conferences with foreign leaders.
Unlike other presidents who enjoyed traveling abroad to conduct summits that were largely for media consumption, Sarge preferred to stay closer to home in the safety of the White House. There had been three attempts to assassinate Sarge.
The first attempt had come when the former president ordered a drone strike to annihilate their bug-out location at the Quabbin Reservoir in central Massachusetts. The second attempt came on his wedding night when Drew Jackson thwarted an assassin. The third was during a rally at a re-election campaign event.
Sarge was popular enough in America to govern effectively. He didn’t need to create media shows in so-called swing states to artificially boost his poll numbers.
The two men chatted as they made their way to the Roosevelt Room. Early on, once they had moved into the White House, Donald suggested the daily briefings be divided into two parts for the sake of time efficiency. Every day at 9:00, the Presidential Daily Brief, or PDB for short, took place in the Roosevelt Room and focused on national security issues. The briefing usually lasted around thirty minutes and was attended by key members of the national security team. Afterwards, Donald and Sarge would move to the Oval Office to meet with the communications team to discuss domestic issues.
Producing and presenting the daily brief was the responsibility of the director of National Intelligence, whose office was tasked with fusing intelligence from the Central Intelligence Agency, the Defense Intelligence Agency, the National Security Agency, the Federal Bureau of Investigation and other members of the U.S. intelligence community.
Past administrations preferred to hold this meeting in the Situation Room, but Sarge preferred to have instant access to members of his staff in the event an issue warranted it.
The doors to the Roosevelt Room were open and the national security team was settling into their seats. As Sarge entered, he immediately saw his chairman of the Joint Chiefs—General “Brad” Bradlee, one of the Loyal Nine.
“Hey, Brad! What brings you into the lion’s den?” Sarge asked as the two men shook hands.
“Good morning, Mr. President. I wanted to see how my protégé, Frank, was coming along with his training,” said Brad, who had been elevated to the rank of general shortly after Sarge’s election so that he could assume the position of the president’s most trusted military advisor.
Further, Brad was charged with the responsibility of bringing the military together despite the split created by the defection of the four Pacific Coast states. The United States military had a huge presence in Hawaii and on the West Coast. Brad’s job was difficult because the military bases were on sovereign U.S. soil and not subject to the claim of any state. There were some very tense moments in that first year during the power struggle between the former president and Sarge’s administration. Brad was widely applauded by his military peers and politicians for preventing World War III from occurring between elements of the American military.
Sarge leaned into Brad’s ear and whispered, “If Julia hears you talk like that, she’ll string us
h up by the privates. Do you hear me, Marine?”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Brad said with a big grin. “Besides, I’m not sure I’ll have time to check in on the little soldier today. We’ve got a situation brewing that I’ll tell you about in a moment. Would you tell Julia that I will be coming on Thursday for dinner?”
“Absolutely, Brad.”
Donald checked his watch and urged his friends to take seats. Monday was the busiest briefing day and he wanted to stay focused on the vote.
The director of National Intelligence began the meeting. He covered all of the usual topics, including terrorist activities by ISIS, military maneuvers by the Russians, North Korea’s nuclear program, and increased tensions between Iran and Israel.
Sarge shook his head as he listened to the briefing and scrolled through Donald’s checklist. After restoring the power and getting the country on its feet, it seemed like geopolitical affairs were quickly back to normal. Terrorism didn’t end because America was knocked to its knees. The Russians didn’t stop their posturing because they couldn’t posture back. The nation most impacted by the cyber attack besides the United States was China.
America was the largest importer of Chinese goods by far. Following the collapse, the demand for consumer goods shrank to nothing for almost two years. As the country regained its footing, lack of income prevented demand for new products. The economic depression that naturally occurred following the collapse of the power grid was felt for several years until just before Sarge’s re-election.
As the economy began to mount its recovery, the nation became more focused on the manufacturing and production of consumer goods. Labor laws were rewritten, overly burdensome environmental regulations were discarded, and tort reforms were instituted in the legal system to keep the costs to businesses low. As a result, goods could now compete with foreign manufacturers, namely China.
Under the guise of the recovery process, Sarge effectively manipulated the world economy to become less reliant on Chinese products, which caused their influence on the world stage to diminish. The result was a distinct chill in U.S.-China relations.
“Ambassador James McBride will be making a visit to Taiwan this week to finalize our one-point-five-billion-dollar arms deal with the Taiwan government,” said Donald. “He’ll be meeting with senior officials of the government, several key business leaders, and will address the Legislative Yuan on Wednesday.”
“No doubt the Chinese will be making a statement about the arms deal, which I approved prior to the election,” said Sarge. The package included early warning radar, high-speed anti-radiation missiles, torpedoes, and defensive missile components. “I’ve tried to explain to President Xi Jinping that we’re simply supporting Taiwan’s ability to maintain a sufficient self-defense capability in the region. I’ve also asked Ambassador McBride to stress there was no change to our long-standing One China policy, which recognizes Beijing and not Taipei. But as we all know, even the Chinese, it’s political BS and has been for decades.”
“General Bradlee, do you have something to add?” asked Sarge.
“I do, Mr. President,” Brad began. “I’ve been in contact with my counterpart in the Taiwanese military. He thanks you for your support and he expressed real confidence in Taiwan’s ability to maintain the status quo of peace and stability across the Taiwan Strait. But he did caution me on something, which, frankly, I’m surprised the CIA has not brought up today.”
Sarge glanced at the deputy director of the CIA, who shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Brad had no use for the CIA, either before or after the collapse. Even with Sarge as president, Brad’s distrust for the accuracy of the information presented at these briefings was obvious. Brad had stated his reasons for concern to Sarge many times—the CIA considered themselves a government in
and of themselves.
“Go ahead, Brad,” Sarge encouraged him to continue.
“Sir, the Taiwan military has seen an increase in political protests in Taipei City. According to my conversations with their military brass, there are elements within the Taiwan government who are tired of what is perceived to be American meddling in its nation’s affairs.”
“Brad, don’t all foreign nations have this inherent belief? For as long as we’ve been a superpower, we’ve reached out to assist other countries, or they’ve come to ask for help. The United States has always been there. Eventually, memories fade and the claws come out. Shall I use Germany as an example? Can anyone doubt that it was largely through American efforts that we saved Germany from Hitler, and after the war, from the Russians? But now look at how they disrespect our country.”
“I can’t disagree with the premise, Mr. President,” said Brad. “All I can do is relay the concerns of my counterparts. There appears to be a boil on the butt of a large part of the Taiwanese people. It might be instigated by the Chinese, or it could be organic.”
“Okay, thank you, Brad,” said Sarge. “Please keep those channels of communication open, and I’d ask the CIA to look into this further. We still have the greatest intelligence apparatus in the world. I don’t need any surprises on this.”
Chapter 6
9:45 a.m.
The Oval Office
The White House
Washington, DC
The Oval Office had been the sanctuary of eighteen U.S. Presidents since it was built in 1909. Each new occupant was able to stamp his own style on the décor. Three eleven-foot-tall windows overlook the South Lawn and the Oval Office patio. Sarge insisted on bringing his pride and joy—a nineteenth-century partner’s desk crafted from oak, with tooled leather inserts and decorated with brass appointments. The desk had been a gift to Winthrop Sargent Gilman when he opened the banking house of Gilman, Son & Co. in New York City around the time the Oval Office was added. It had been passed down through the years to his father, and then to Sarge.
