by Bobby Akart
Rutledge’s eyes narrowed. “Why should I care what you think?”
“Because, Leader Rutledge,” started Sánchez, “I’m being encouraged by the DNC to run for your seat in two years.”
Rutledge began to stand. He’d experienced young bucks coming after him politically in the past and intended to shut this conversation down. “Well, thanks for the heads-up, but don’t ever waste my time like this again, Congressman.” Rutledge intentionally stretched out the word for effect.
Sánchez persisted. “Please, let me finish. I’m here to deliver a message and make a promise to you. Leader Rutledge, I’ll bide my time for four years when the junior senator from Georgia runs for re-election. I’ll ride the wave of an even larger democratic Congress and take his seat, allowing you a certain re-election in two years.”
“Why should I entertain any of this?” asked Senator Rutledge.
“Sir, it’s quite simple. We want you to stand down when the vote comes to the Senate floor Wednesday.”
“It’ll never make it out of the House.”
“Yes, sir, it will. And when it comes to a vote on Wednesday, we want you to cut off debate, block any filibusters, and allow a straight up-and-down vote. In exchange, you can retire as the senior senator from Georgia, albeit in the minority.”
Rutledge stood and placed his hands palm down on the conference table, a sneer coming across his face. “You’ve gotta lot of nerve coming in here and threatening me. I’ll run the Senate my way, and no snot-nosed kid with a message from the DNC will scare me. As for your running to take my job, you better pack a lunch. You have no idea what hardball politics looks like. Now, get the hell out of my office!”
Sánchez left without saying a word, leaving Rutledge alone in the conference room. He walked to the windows with his hands in his pockets. The proponents of the Pacific Statehood Act took a big risk by approaching me, what are they doing with others in my party?
Chapter 12
Noon
The President’s Dining Room
The White House
Washington, DC
Sarge, Donald, and Brad convened for a working lunch in the President’s Dining Room. Located through a small corridor past the president’s private study, Sarge often had casual meals with Julia and the kids, as well as working luncheons with Donald. Sarge also had the room equipped with several wall-mounted televisions so that he could keep up with news being reported from around the world.
While they waited for their fourth guest, Brad provided them an update on the situation in Taiwan. “Sarge, the uprising in Taiwan is not that much different from what we’re experiencing here over the statehood bill. Taiwanese students feel betrayed by the government’s continued friendly relations with China. The recent trade agreements were perceived as hurtful to the Taiwan economy and a slap in the face of recent graduates who are having difficulty finding jobs.”
“They’re thinking short term,” added Donald. “The results of these agreements take time to materialize. You can’t just sign a trade agreement and expect instant results.”
Sarge nodded and motioned for them to take a seat at the round table, where glasses of tea and water awaited them. “Besides, wouldn’t they prefer an air of cooperation with Beijing instead of firing bullets at one another?”
“You’d think so, but that issue has complicated matters,” replied Brad. “The arms deal we made has angered the pro-Chinese youth in Taiwan. One side is complaining about the trade pact, and the other side is bemoaning the arms deal. In the end, they’re all unhappy.”
“I’ve read Ambassador McBride’s address to the Legislative Yuan,” said Sarge. “I hope that he can calm the rhetoric and make our position clear. Pulling out of the trade pacts would damage Taiwan’s international credibility. The arms sale was absolutely necessary to provide some semblance of military parity in the region. China knows where we stand on both issues. Hopefully, these student protestors will get the message and go back to class.”
They settled into their chairs when the door opened from the Oval Office. “Betty escorted me into the Commander-in-Chief’s office, so I took the old fool’s chair for a spin. You know, I never could find the nuclear football. Good thing, I guess.”
Sarge jumped out of his chair and greeted his Secretary of Veteran’s Affairs—Dr. John Joseph Warren. “Hello, J.J. We really don’t get to see each other enough except in cabinet meetings, and then it’s all business.”
J.J. was an accomplished Army battalion surgeon who had been deployed to Joint Base Balad as part of the 310th Sustainment Command—located on the former Al-Bakr Air Force base north of Baghdad. J.J. had risen to the rank of major during his decorated career with the Army.
Prior to the cyber attack, he had become close friends with Donald and Susan Quinn. Ultimately, he was introduced to the others and became the armageddon doctor to the Loyal Nine.
Following his retirement from the military, J.J. carried a lot of anger inside. He was disappointed in the lack of appreciation the veterans of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan received in the media and by politicians. After Sarge was elected, J.J. approached him about a position within Veterans Affairs to help soldiers with PTSD and also to assist returning vets in finding jobs. Sarge surprised everyone by naming him to a cabinet position.
It wasn’t unusual for newly elected presidents to surround themselves with close confidants, so Sarge, after consulting with Julia, took advantage of that expectation. Donald was his Chief of Staff with Susan, his wife, still close at hand. J.J. and Brad were both members of the cabinet. Abbie was his vice president and along with husband Drew, who was taken in as Steven’s replacement, rounded out the inner circle.
The only member of the Loyal Nine who was not included was Katie. After she successfully tracked down Steven’s killer, she accepted a position within Aegis. Sadly, Katie was killed in a terrorist attack in Berlin while running a security detail for an international financier. It was a freak occurrence that was completely unavoidable.
“You better keep your hands off the nukes, old friend,” said Donald as he gave J.J. a bro-hug. “I hear you’re headed out for a whirlwind tour of the world.”
J.J. shook hands with Brad and took the last remaining chair. “I’ve gotten used to the travel despite my advanced age.” He ran his fingers through his thinning gray hair.
“Will this be your last outing?” asked Brad.
“Yeah. I wanted to see our guys during Thanksgiving week. I know Sarge has plans for a surprise visit around Christmas.”
Sarge rose to request the food be brought in, and he summoned one of the staff. He turned his attention back to his friends. “It’s all tentative right now, but my plans are to visit Guam, Japan, and perhaps South Korea if that little tyrant in the north is behaving himself.”
“I’m against the South Korea leg,” Brad said with a gruff. “You’re too easy a target for that madman. One of these days, somebody is gonna have to take him out.”
All of the men stopped speaking as the food was brought in. Everybody was provided a bowl of baked potato soup and a side sandwich. In Sarge’s eight years in office, elaborate, gourmet meals were not the norm except when foreign dignitaries were involved.
J.J. continued. “We’ll fly out of Andrews tomorrow at oh-six-hundred. I’ve got the NSA director and the Secretary of the Army coming with me. Our itinerary includes Baghdad and Bagram, with a brief touchdown at Landstuhl Medical in Germany.”
Sarge wiped his mouth and patted J.J. on the arm as he finished chewing. “You’ve done great work these past eight years, my friend. The programs you’ve implemented will assure that the VA doesn’t fall into the same mistakes from the past.”
“I guess you could say the collapse made my job easier, but you’re right. The natural inclination would be to return to the same failed methodology. We’ve righted the ship and hopefully the new administration will carry it forward.”
Donald raised his hand, as if to make a point bef
ore he forgot it. With a mouthful of food, he interrupted. “J.J., we’ve arranged for Sarge to be patched in via teleconference at each of your stops. He doesn’t want to upstage you, but it’s his last Thanksgiving in office and he’d like to say a few words.”
“Just a few, that’s a first,” said J.J. laughingly. The group joined in, as Sarge had become known as the long-winded president.
“Give me a break. Sometimes you can’t mince words. Donald, will I have prepared remarks? That usually helps.”
“Absolutely,” he replied.
The four friends finished off their meals after discussing their families and years in the administration. Finally, it was J.J. who spoke up about the issue that they were all acutely aware of, but nobody wanted to speak about.
“Well, are we gonna talk about the elephant in the room—the vote?”
Chapter 13
2:00 p.m. ET
The Lowell Summer Cottage
White Cliff Road
Egg Harbor, Wisconsin
The Lowell summer cottage was an outrageously large, sixty-four-hundred-square-foot home with beautiful water views of Green Bay. The home had been featured in multiple issues of Architectural Digest prior to the collapse and was the epitome of opulence.
Gardner Lowell was a visionary in many respects, especially in terms of American politics. He saw the trend in national elections to focus on Midwestern states ranging from Wisconsin, through Indiana, and as far east as Pennsylvania. Like John Morgan, who had the ability to look many election cycles in advance, Gardner saw an opportunity to elevate his son, John, into politics through a Midwestern state such as Wisconsin. He purchased the Egg Harbor property to provide John a residence for a future run at Congress, for starters.
In the meantime, it served its purpose as a meeting place far away from New York and Boston. He could meet with his international contacts here, entertain American politicians without being noticed by the media, and engage in the occasional tryst without raising the ire of his wife.
The staff’s instructions were to escort the senators to the parlor overlooking the harbor and wait for Lowell’s entrance. After offering the two a drink, the staff was to retreat from the room and leave Gardner alone with his guests.
Gardner sat in his study and adjusted the cameras that provided him three angles of the parlor. He carefully adjusted the volume on the microphones hidden within the furniture and lamps. Gardner Lowell had many contacts in Washington, especially in the CIA. His monitoring system in the summer cottage was state of the art and CIA approved.
“Are you sure you wanna go through with it?” asked Senator Ron Billows, the senior senator from New York and the Senate Majority Whip.
The much younger senator, Jemeel Ellis, a rising star within the Democratic Party, was a very attractive black woman from Denver. Her family was well-known in California political circles as big money donors for liberal and social causes. After her move to Colorado to support the pro-marijuana referendums, Senator Ellis positioned herself as a libertarian, leaning left on social issues but right on matters of national security and fiscal responsibility. After she was elected to the Senate four years ago, riding the wave of Sarge’s re-election, she began to become more prominent on the national stage.
Senator Ellis took a sip of her drink and quickly responded, “Come on, Ron. Don’t doubt my determination to make this happen.”
“I just want to make sure,” said Senator Billows with a toothy grin. He noticeably surveyed his peer’s leggy posture. Senator Ellis was also a former Miss Colorado in the Miss USA pageant. “There will be some very powerful people who are going to be extremely pissed off on Wednesday evening.”
She laughed at his statement. “No doubt. Listen, Ron, perhaps I should be asking, are you sure you’re up to it?”
Billows stood and walked toward the wall of windows overlooking the water. It was a beautiful, crisp day. “I’m ready for a new challenge. A cause I can believe in. After the collapse, during the recovery, I made a ton of money. I’ve risen to the leadership position of the libertarians with my sights set on the next level, Senate Majority Leader. When this bill passes, and with the requisite accommodations made, I can possess a tremendous amount of power in the new Congress.”
Gardner continued to adjust the cameras and volume to pick up every word. He suspected that Billows would be seeking the Majority Leader post. He could deliver it, but an unexpected forced retirement would be required, something easily arranged.
“Your request doesn’t sound unreasonable. Can you deliver the votes?” asked Senator Ellis.
“Enough to tip the balance to even or plus one in favor of the bill.”
“What about the vice president? Wouldn’t she be there to break the tie?”
Senator Billows laughed. “She’s checked out at this point. Abbie is in Tennessee with her new husband and a bun in the oven. I doubt she’ll be in Washington this week.”
She took another sip of her drink. “So the table’s set. I can put everyone’s mind at ease with certain assurances. I’ll wait until Gardner arrives to discuss what I’m looking for.”
Lowell leaned back in his office chair and knew what he had to work with. For Billows, this negotiation was not about money, as the man had become wealthy during his years in the Senate. He sought power, and with the elimination of a single obstacle, the promise could be fulfilled.
Jemeel Ellis had higher aspirations, he could sense it. It was time for her to make her proposal.
Lowell joined them in the parlor and the three shared another drink and exchanged some pleasantries. Senator Billows made his request first and Lowell feigned consternation regarding the ramifications of the senator’s request but eventually acquiesced. Pleased with the result, Billows sat back and yielded the floor to Ellis.
She immediately turned on the charm. She slid up in her chair and deftly crossed the legs on her five-foot-ten-inch frame, which drew the immediate attention of both men. Gardner admired her initiative. She exuded sexuality and it had a mesmerizing effect.
“Gardner, I don’t need to read my entire résumé to you. But I come from a family of firsts. My grandfather was the first African-American mayor of Los Angeles. My father was just elected the first African-American governor of California. As a Coloradan, I was the first to win the Miss Colorado title and the first African-American senator.”
Gardner nodded and took another sip of his drink. As she’d stated, he knew all of this. Clearly, she wanted to be the first of some other position. “So, Senator, what does your future hold? Where do you see your career headed?”
“Prior to the next presidential election, I’ll turn thirty-five. As a libertarian, I want to follow in the footsteps of Abbie Morgan and be named the running mate on the democratic ticket.”
Senator Billows spontaneously laughed, drawing a death glare from Senator Ellis. She was serious in her request and Gardner knew it. His mind raced, as he wasn’t sure if this was a promise he could keep. A lot depended on the result of this vote and other things that would manifest themselves in the coming days.
Gardner managed a smile without breaking eye contact with Ellis. “Is there anything else?”
“I need a million dollars.”
Billows burst out laughing once again. “I sold myself short. Gardner, would you like to sweeten my pot as well? I mean, come on, Jemeel, this is a simple vote. I don’t think it’s appropriate to shoot for the moon and the stars here.”
Ellis ignored her counterpart from New York. Gardner kept eye contact and managed a slight smile. He liked her.
“Ron, I think our business is complete,” Gardner said dismissively as he stood to escort Billows out. “Let me show you to the door. Please keep our arrangement confidential, and I want you to provide me constant updates as the vote nears. Rest assured, the Lowells keep their word.”
Billows looked perplexed at his sudden departure. He glanced toward Ellis, who continued to ignore him. Stammering, he responded, “
Well, okay. Of course, Gardner, I will. Thank you for having me. I’ll stay in touch.”
After the door was closed behind him, Gardner approached Ellis and extended his hand. She took it and rose to stand dangerously close to him. He leaned and whispered in her ear, “I can give you what you want, and more. But I’ll need something else from you in return.”
“What might that be, Gardner?” she asked softly.
He leaned closer, his hand on her hip and his whiskey breath on her neck. He whispered his conditions, and she nodded and accepted.
Chapter 14
3:15 p.m. ET
The Lowell Summer Cottage
White Cliff Road
Egg Harbor, Wisconsin
The muted buzz of the intercom stirred Gardner out of bed. He glanced over at his companion, Senator Ellis, and then carefully pushed the button to reply, hoping not to wake her.
Gardner’s chief butler responded. “Sir, a gentleman has arrived. He has identified himself as Mr. West. He insists upon seeing you.”
Gardner took another glance over his shoulder to confirm his bed companion was still sleeping. He slipped on his clothes and quietly left the room. Descending the winding staircase into the foyer, he stared at his guest in disbelief.
“Where have you been?” he asked the man who had identified himself as Mr. West. He was a tall man with impossibly pale skin and neatly combed white hair. His black suit, starched white shirt, and solid black tie gave him the appearance of an undertaker—or a well-dressed grim reaper.
Mr. West didn’t bother answering, choosing to put his hands in his pockets instead. Gardner continued. “You’d better not have bad news for me.”
Mr. West was opening his mouth to respond when Gardner waved his arm and looked around the ceiling of his foyer. It dawned on him that any of a multitude of government agencies or foreign governments could hack his surveillance system. The CIA spooks he’d hired had probably designed it so they could listen in themselves.
