by Bobby Akart
The Tuesday before Thanksgiving
November 2024
Chapter 24
6:00 a.m.
The Executive Residence
The White House
Washington, DC
Julia felt around in bed for Sarge, but he was already up for the day. It was still dark, which was not unusual since he’d be headed for his run, except the snow accumulation overnight would have made it too treacherous. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she wrapped herself in a robe and made her way to the bathroom, where she found him putting the final touches on his tie.
“Looks like you’re getting dressed for battle,” she whispered in his ear as she hugged him around the waist.
It had only been nine years since the two of them had taken their relationship to the next level. Julia had been enjoying a meteoric rise in her career as the political editor at the Boston Herald, and Sarge had been settled into the new freedom he enjoyed as a tenured professor at Harvard’s Kennedy School of Government.
Somehow, the stars aligned on that night in December of 2015, which drew them together for dinner and more. After that evening, their love grew and their destiny together was etched in stone.
With Sarge’s ruggedly handsome face, blue eyes, and muscular six-foot frame, he was attractive by any woman’s standards. But it was the man inside who had always drawn Julia to Sarge. In addition to his sense of humor and intelligence, she admired his drive. Sarge was a principled man who lived by one objective—every decision he made for his family, friends, or country must always be couched in terms of whether the result makes us safe and free.
He was not the type of man who lived to climb the corporate ladder of success. Fate bestowed upon him the levels of power he’d achieved as head of the Boston Brahmin and leader of the free world. Those were never on his bucket list.
In a world so often governed by self-interest, being the wife of Henry Sargent made Julia realize what leading a noble life was like. Sarge had well-defined principles and he stood by them despite the peer pressures from others around him. In the face of criticism and condemnation, he always stood for what he believed in, advancing arguments and defenses to his detriment when necessary. Julia feared for Sarge because deep down, she realized the quality she most admired in him might also turn out to one day be his downfall.
Over his time in office, Sarge’s desire to do the right thing came into conflict with his duties as the head of the Boston Brahmin. On more than one occasion, he was called before the executive council by Walter Cabot, the elder statesman following the deaths of John Morgan and Lawrence Lowell. He was not-so-subtly reminded, “Henry, presidents come and go, but we’ve endured for centuries.”
There were times when Sarge refused to compromise or bend even a fraction of an inch when it came to his principles. He had been called arrogant behind his back, and Julia understood why. However, she felt people who labeled him as arrogant were missing the point. Sarge believed in himself and the principles that he’d adopted throughout his life. Sure, they might be at odds with certain special interests, but he stood firmly by them.
What’s more, he believed in his capability as a consensus builder, as long as the parties remained open-minded. No matter what the risk or how great the danger, Sarge was willing to rise to the occasion when his family, friends, and country needed him. This was one of those times.
“I chose the red tie for today,” said Sarge as he kissed Julia on the arm.
“Yeah, aggressive and dominant, big boy,” purred Julia. “I like it.”
“Down, girl, you’re not the one I’m trying to influence today. This will be for the cameras this afternoon after the vote is over. I want the media to see how serious I am about bringing this to a conclusion the right way.”
Julia kissed him on the cheek and made her way to the toilet. Sarge adjusted his shirt and slipped on his suit jacket before giving himself one final look in the mirror.
“Can you join us for breakfast?” Julia asked as she washed her hands.
“No, coffee only. I received a text from Brad via Donald. There have been some developments in Taiwan that require my immediate attention.”
“Anything serious?”
“I don’t know yet. During the ambassador’s speech, a mob gathered outside the building and they protested into the night. It became unruly and forced us to lock down the AIT complex.”
“Did they storm the embassy? I mean the quasi-embassy?”
“No, but something else happened that might have just been coincidental. Parts of Taiwan began to experience rolling blackouts in their power grid.”
“Maybe it was weather related?”
“Maybe,” replied Sarge, who turned to Julia and playfully opened her robe. He held himself against her and gave her a proper kiss. “It’s just that I’ve got this thing about power outages, you know?”
“Can’t imagine why,” she said as she returned his kiss and showed the President of the United States who was really running things.
Chapter 25
7:00 a.m.
The Situation Room
Ground Floor, The West Wing
Washington, DC
Snow began to fall against the early morning autumn sky as Brad’s car wove through the concrete barricades onto West Executive Drive. The driver slowed, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel impatiently as he waited for the heavy black security gate to open, granting him access to the White House. After crunching through the snow from the night before, they pulled to an abrupt stop in front of the ground-floor entrance to the West Wing.
Brad exited the vehicle without waiting for his aide to open the door. He was not much for the pomp and circumstance afforded men who’d held the position of chairman of the Joint Chiefs. Brad was a Marine, and Marines don’t let people open their doors for them.
He made his way under the long white awning that extended from the building to the curb, pausing briefly for Major Charlotte Riley to catch up with him. Major Riley had been tasked with monitoring the Taiwan situation and had alerted Brad to the new developments in the early morning hours. He knew Sarge well enough to realize these events required a personal update. No chairman of the JCS had ever enjoyed this kind of access to the President of the United States in history. Then again, none had ever been through the trenches with one either.
Lieutenant Colonel Francis Crowninshield Bradlee, Brad to his friends, was the consummate military man. In the early, pre-Revolutionary War days, the Crowninshields were known for their seafaring adventures. But as the War for Independence came to full fruition, as close friends of Thomas Jefferson, the prominent family became the backbone of the United States military for years to come. Descendants of the Crowninshield family held the positions of Secretary of the Navy and Secretary of War under several presidential administrations.
Like so many of the Founding Fathers, the Crowninshield lineage included the surnames Adams, Endicott, Hawthorne, DuPont and Bradlee. Brad’s father was the editor of the Washington Post before his death, and his mother was a highly respected, influential journalist. While the Bradlee branch of the Crowninshield family tree generally abhorred the military, Brad lived for it. He attended the Naval Academy and during his second class year he chose Leatherneck for his summer training. He received praise from his mentors and surpassed all of the academic and physical standards required to graduate as one of a few dozen Marine Selects.
His career was stellar, and after three years as a major, he earned the rank of lieutenant colonel. Under his command were 750 infantry designated service members comprising the 25th Marine Regiment of 1st Battalion. At age forty, he had fast-tracked his career to battalion commander. Now, at fifty, he’d been elevated to the highest military rank and honor in the nation.
Brad had met Steven Sargent at the Naval Academy, and the two became good friends despite their several-year age difference. Brad encouraged Steven to become a Marine, but the younger Sargent was hell-bent on becoming a SEAL via the Na
vy rather than through the BUDS training option offered by the Marines. Either way, Brad admired Steven for becoming one heck of a warrior, and the two stayed close friends over the years. They also realized they had common interests, which they immediately pursued.
As one of the Loyal Nine, Brad had worked closely with Sarge as they managed the events following the collapse. Together, they defended Prescott Peninsula and later went on the offensive by driving the UN Security Forces out of Boston, together with their ringleader, FEMA Governor O’Brien. Brad’s reputation became more prominent within the military around the country, and using Sarge’s guidance and the power of consensus building, Brad held the massive armed forces apparatus together. He’d earned his stars.
Brad gave the snow-filled sky one last look, and with Major Riley in tow, the two entered through the double doors, where two uniformed officers were posted. He started down the deserted hallway of the ground floor of the West Wing, which served primarily as offices for support staff as well as the cafeteria.
The president’s office was located above them, but Brad needed the benefit of the audio-visual equipment contained within the Situation Room to provide Sarge and Donald images of the activities taking place in Taiwan. The time in Taiwan was just after 7:00 p.m. and darkness had set in a couple of hours ago. The unrest had escalated after dark.
Down the hallway on the right, the watch officer, a lieutenant commander in the United States Navy, stood by the door to the Situation Room in a sharply pressed black uniform. He greeted Brad professionally and gestured toward the door. “Good morning, General. The president and Chief of Staff just arrived, sir.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant Commander Bowlin,” said Brad as he glanced at the watch officer’s nametape. Brad approached the secure door with a camera mounted above it. A black-and-gold plaque with the words White House Situation Room: Restricted Access warned visitors of the room’s importance.
The White House Situation Room was a five-thousand-square-foot complex of rooms located on the ground floor of the West Wing. It was commonly referred to as the Woodshed.
The Situation Room was born out of frustration on the part of President John Kennedy after the Bay of Pigs debacle in Cuba. President Kennedy felt betrayed by the conflicting advice and information coming in to him from the various agencies that comprised the nation’s defense departments. Kennedy ordered the bowling alley built during the Truman presidency removed and replaced with the Situation Room.
Initially, before the age of electronics, President Kennedy required at least one Central Intelligence analyst remain in the Situation Room at all times. The analyst would work a twenty-hour shift and sleep on a cot during the night.
Other presidents, like Nixon and Ford, never used the Situation Room. In most cases, a visit from the president was a formal undertaking, happening only on rare occasions. President George H.W. Bush, a former CIA head, would frequently call and ask if he could stop by and say hello.
When there had been a foreign policy failure, such as when the shoe bomber boarded a flight on Christmas Day in 2009, the Situation Room became a forum for a tongue-lashing directed at top-level intelligence and national security personnel. Sarge had never issued a tongue-lashing because Brad ran a tight ship. Fortunately, this administration had not experienced foreign policy failures like its predecessor. Brad didn’t like surprises, nor did Sarge. They had also learned not to ignore odd coincidences, hence the need for this hastily called meeting.
Chapter 26
7:00 a.m.
The Situation Room
Ground Floor, The West Wing
Washington, DC
The lock on the door buzzed and Brad entered the main conference room. Updated in 2006, the room now had six flat-screen monitors for secure video conferences, and the technology linked them to world leaders around the globe. The beautiful mahogany walls installed during the early years had been removed in favor of the new, more sound-friendly, whisper walls.
During the renovation, the room was modified to include a bank of curved computer terminals, allowing National Security team watch officers to monitor events in real time, make instant contact with military personnel in the theater of engagement, and create graphics or produce maps to help the president in his decision making.
After greeting one another, several of the attendees filled their coffee cups and got settled in to listen to Brad and Major Riley provide their update. “If everyone will be seated, we can get started. Major Riley, please bring up the first of the images from outside the Legislative Yuan during the ambassador’s speech.”
A map of Taipei City appeared with arrows pointing toward key points of interest, including the Legislative Yuan and the AIT complex. Then satellite images appeared, which were portrayed in a time-stamped slide show depicting the systematic occupation of the surrounding grounds by Taiwanese students.
“Were they gathering before or after the ambassador’s speech?” asked Donald.
“Major,” said Brad, indicating that Major Riley should take the floor.
“Sir, based upon these time stamps, the students appeared from all directions throughout the city. At first, maybe a hundred or so mainly peaceful protestors carried signs and occasionally shouted toward legislators as they arrived. As the session continued, more than a thousand had arrived from various directions.”
“I assume that at some point the demonstrations escalated to a point of violence?” asked Sarge.
“Yes, Mr. President, they did,” replied Major Riley. “Let me add three additional images in the sequences. You will note that the time stamps coincide with the conclusion of the ambassador’s remarks.”
The new satellite images were added and what they represented was obvious. A large mob of people began to approach the Legislative Yuan from the south. They marched deliberately toward the complex and bulled their way through the other demonstrators until they reached the entrance to the building.
“Wow!” Donald exclaimed. “It looks like a tsunami pushing its way through the streets of a coastal city. These new demonstrators appeared to be on a mission.”
“They were, sir. Based upon our intelligence, this group of late arriving students and young people were primarily Chinese nationals who were advancing their One China demands.”
“This is different from the previous slides,” said Sarge. “The other protestors arrived sporadically, as if drawn to a spectacle. This group appears orchestrated, similar to an astroturf political uprising here. It’s not unusual for political parties to pay people to pretend to be supportive. The faux support often takes the form of creating a phony demonstration to raise public awareness by grabbing media attention.”
Major Riley nodded and walked back to the street map of the area surrounding the Legislative Yuan. “Yes, Mr. President. But there’s more. Let me bring everyone’s attention back to the map. This large group of demonstrators began to gather earlier in the day here, at Chiang Kai-Shek Memorial Hall and its surrounding grounds. As everyone knows, he was the president of the Republic of China, during which time he fought a civil war with the forces of the Chinese Communist Party led by Chairman Mao Zedong. Chiang Kai-Shek retreated to Taiwan, where he ran the Chinese government until his death in 1975.”
“He is widely considered a symbol of the One China policy espoused by Beijing,” added Sarge, who took pride in his historical knowledge.
“Are you saying this large group, which joined the fray late, were organized throughout the day at the memorial?” asked Donald.
“Yes, sir,” replied Major Riley. “We also believe there was direct Chinese involvement.”
“Please explain,” said Sarge.
Major Riley returned to the map. “This building down the street is China’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The CIA keeps eyes on it at all times. There were several yet-to-be-identified individuals who traversed the grounds between the memorial and the ministry throughout the hours leading up to Ambassador McBride’s remarks. Our satellite
imagery, unfortunately, is blurred, but let me show you these images.”
Major Riley returned to her iPad and began to bring up images on the monitors one by one. She continued. “As you can see, it’s impossible to identify these three individuals, but they are wearing similar attire.”
“They all look like samurais,” interrupted Donald.
“Imperial Chinese warriors, actually,” said Brad. “Samurais are Japanese. Similar concept although the samurais were an elevated class within Japanese culture, whereas the imperial warriors were exceptional soldiers.”
Sarge rose out of his chair and walked up to the monitor, where he pointed at the men. “Are those swords?”
“Yes, Mr. President. One of these individuals breached the security of the Legislative Yuan, swinging a sword. He was subdued but not before stabbing one of the military guards. The man, identified as a Chinese national, was carrying a Taiwan flag in his backpack at the time. We believe his carrying of the flag was a ruse.”
“Are we able to interrogate him? Is it even necessary?” asked Sarge.
Brad took that question. “The Taiwanese authorities claim to have the situation in hand. Sending in the CIA at this point might escalate this to something bigger than it needs to be.”
“Sir, if I might add,” continued Major Riley. “According to the briefing our people received, the man is an unemployed engineer who claims to have taken the sword from a nearby military museum to protect himself during the demonstration. He claims he wanted to express his political views against the One China policy.”
“Yet we believe he was part of the late-arriving demonstrators who came from the direction of the memorial and China’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs,” interrupted Donald. “The actions and the words don’t mesh.”
The room fell silent as Donald’s words soaked in.
