The Unlikely Savior (The Unlikely Savior Trilogy)

by T. S. Seley Elliott

  “Mr... Byron, that was a long time ago.” She sounded almost disappointed. He couldn’t help it; he spilled his guts.

  He told her everything from his post-retirement pursuits to his recent discoveries, beginning with Lisa. He gambled when he told her that Jason Barker had helped, pointing out that it was only out of concern and faith in her...and he gambled even more when he told her he’d been at the residence of a man who’d benefited from her assistance when they’d seen the broadcast regarding the JFK bombing along with her photo.

  At some point during the story, he detected he’d been placed on speaker phone, but once the dam broke, he seemed incapable of stopping. Even when Margie reappeared and trotted back to the car with obvious excitement, he continued to talk into the phone, lest he lose his nerve.

  He stopped after mentioning the bombing, knowing the most important bit of information was yet to come and he had to know she was receptive before he went there.

  Margie, now in the car, was well tuned in; he mouthed, “It’s her,” as he also put his phone on speaker.

  It was relatively quiet on the other end, but they heard faint voices they couldn’t make out. Then they heard Johnnie speak to them.

  “You said you felt you had a role and this was all connected...I can’t challenge anything you’ve told me, but I fail to see where it’s all going. I don’t know why I – we – think time is critical, it just seems like this is going somewhere. Lookit...I am actually asking you for help.”

  The strain in the young woman’s voice with the last statement touched Margie, and she squeezed his arm, whispering, “Just tell her.”

  “Johnnie...and by the way, my wife Margie is here now, I guess at this point in the game, I do need to cut to the chase. One of my former students told me, back then, that you had saved his dad’s life...actually appeared to have cured his cancer.” No response...so he continued. “He was a Chinese American ...we were at his Dad’s house yesterday and he validated the story. Look, Johnnie, the kid was Wing Liang, the President...and he remembers everything...and well, I just got a call from his father. The President wants to see you. Soon.”

  The clattering sound coming from the speaker indicated that Johnnie must have dropped her phone...they heard rustling and voices at the other end. Then a male voice, “Mr. Hoffstedder, this is James Cain, Johnnie’s brother...”

  Byron’s heart leapt…he knew exactly who James Cain was.

  “Mr. Cain! A pleasure...uh...is she alright?”

  “Well, that’s a loaded question,” Said the calm, but congenial voice, then the Hoffstedders heard a voice in the background, “I’m fine.... sorry I dropped you. I just wasn’t expecting...” She went quiet again. Byron felt pressed to get this wrapped up.

  “Look, we, and Wei – Mr. Liang - the senior, that is, don’t understand this, but we have no explanation other than we led the President to you through Wei and that couldn’t have happened if everything else hadn’t happened. We are actually in South Bend, Indiana right now, then on to Toledo to see if there are any other dots we can connect, just in case. But may I give them – the Liangs – your contact information?”

  As they heard unintelligible soft talking on the other end, Marg leaned toward Byron and whispered,

  “There’s more!” As she manically pointed to the house up the street she’d just visited.

  This time another male voice piped up on the line.

  “Mr. Hoffstedder, Jeremy Christensen here...you might remember me as Jerry Christensen...” Byron’s face contorted as he quickly placed the name. His mouth dropped open and before he could respond, the voice continued.

  “Yes, it’s been a long time. Long story, but I think we’ll sort it out later. James stepped out of the room... yes, you can pass on Johnnie’s information, but do you know when...”

  That’s when Margie surprised Byron by pulling the phone toward her, unaware that the speaker function would have picked up her voice just fine. She spoke loudly, but clearly, as she said,

  “Hello! This is Margaret Hoffstedder... I just think Johnnie, or you or whoever is there, should know that it looks like she had some sort of interaction with another Washington big shot when she was here in South Bend. Something to do with a heart abnormality...I’m sorry, I don’t know my politics...but do you know who Frank Wallace is?”

  __________________________________________________________

  Jerod Stass and Jon Benson sat in the base officer’s club, each with a beer in front of them. With their busy schedules and family obligations, this was a rare opportunity for the men to talk alone. It was a created opportunity, however, spawned with Jon’s e-mail earlier that day, asking Jerod if he’d seen the coverage on the New York airport bombing. Jerod simply replied with an invitation for his psychologist friend to meet him at the officer’s lounge at five that afternoon.

  “It was actually a total fluke that I even saw the report.” Jon said as he sat down his beer. “I don’t catch the news often, but we run NHN in the waiting room at the clinic. I was talking to the receptionist when they covered the bombing...I just barely caught the photo before the Israeli situation took over...I wasn’t even sure if it was her, it was just a feeling.”

  “There’s a lot of that going around.” Said his friend, with a grim smile, “But, honestly, we’re hoping no one else caught it or would recognize her. It was a shitty photo, and from a side angle, to boot.” He sighed, rubbing one hand back and forth on his thigh nervously.

  “I know we aren’t in your office, and I’m not your client...but how far does that confidentiality thing go when someone talks with you?” He had not discussed the specifics of Johnnie’s situation, as he knew them, with anyone other than Jason, and that was limited. He hadn’t even discussed the true nature of the events with Marta – not so much because of fear that she wouldn’t believe him, but because she would have kicked his ass for not defending Johnnie’s career with what he believed to be true.

  Jon looked at his friend and when Jerod returned the gaze, the doctor smiled.

  “You can tell me anything off the record...but, if it will save you some worry, I’m pretty sure she told me what’s on your mind. She had confidentiality and she pretty much spilled her guts. I think the difference is, at least at the time, she probably didn’t believe what you apparently do believe...”

  With tremendous relief, Jerod poured out his version of the entire affair and Jon listened with rapt interest. The captain was overwhelmed with guilt for having abandoned the young woman, particularly after seeing the news report.

  “You probably think we’re both crazy...but I already felt torn and conflicted about it all – I even left her a chicken-shit note telling her as much – when she left. But now?” He gestured toward the bar television as he recalled the previous day’s report. He shook his head, then looked levelly at his friend.

  “But, you recognized her too...I have to tell you, we did not intend to identify her to anyone, but I understand if you feel the duty to do so.”

  Jon studied the troubled man next to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

  “You need to understand something...that’s not going to happen. You also need to understand that I don’t think either of you are crazy. I think our greatest concerns should be, first – what she is going through and whether she’s alone – and second, I don’t know how we can do it, but we need to right a wrong. I don’t know if we could ever get her back on active duty, but the discharge characterization was just wrong; this thing might be making her feel crazy – but I don’t believe she’s mentally ill now, and frankly, I didn’t believe it then. I thought I was helping her, but now – well, I’m afraid we just threw her to the wolves.”

  It had not been a good day. President Liang felt his personal convictions weakening, although they had not become quite as precarious as the international house of cards. The “ace” laid on top today threatened to topple all, as well as giving him the final answer that his goal for a comprehensive internati
onal conference was moot. China, blaming the United States and the United Nations for failure to keep the reins on Israel, and obviously displeased about the damage to the pipeline from the airstrike, invaded Taiwan that day. More specific to the President’s interests, they held a U.S. warship which was in port in Taiwan and called for immediate repayment of all U.S. debts. Their actions and communications felt like a schoolyard taunting, but the stakes were grossly out of proportion to the same.

  With his vice President, Holly Spiering, at his side, he was nearly stormed by the other members of the National Security Council. Secretary of State, Toby Chrone, was flanked by the Secretary of Defense, Martin Hayes and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Judy Hawking. Although they’d been at odds lately, Wing also ensured Frank Wallace was present as his top advisor.

  “President Liang, surely you can see this is a crisis. Although we’d gotten a lukewarm response for the summit, it would be pointless without China; in fact, proceeding without them would be an obvious act of defiance against them. We must act. If for no other reason than, now, American lives are at stake.”

  Wing breathed in deeply, and scanned the room. Not ready to respond, he focused on an unexpected party, David Carver. Dr. Carver was the Director of the Executive Office of Science and Technology. He was known as the President’s science advisor, but more importantly to this President, the director was also his liaison to NASA.

  Wing smiled wearily at the man, “To what do we owe this pleasure?” Before Dr. Carver could answer, Frank Wallace spoke up.

  “Mr. President, I invited him; we wanted to recommend cancelling the scheduled shuttle launch this week. It hardly seems appropriate...”

  Although generally soft spoken, David Carter spoke up now.

  “Sir, with all due respect, I am not of a like mind for the recommendation.” He cordially nodded toward Frank, then his eyes settled calmly back on the President.

  Frank Wallace, still a man of great influence, regardless of his differences with the boss, spoke more sternly now.

  “With the same respect returned, Dr. Carver, our nation has greater concerns and, as I understand, one of the shuttle members may be falling ill? Wouldn’t it be prudent, all the way around...”

  “No. She has not been ruled out as yet, and even so, is not critical to the launch, and we have alternates...and I don’t see a conflict.” Carver returned, appearing to be as relaxed as if he were simply there for drinks and conversation.

  In truth, due the flood of events in the past 48 hours, Wing had given little consideration to the timing of the departure of the Revival, the first space shuttle launch in years. But he knew it required no further consideration, although he could not have explained his rationale.

  “The launch goes...” Before anyone else spoke, Donna Pettigrew, who probably slept as little as the President, chose this moment to present one more non-international matter.

  “Sir, should we cancel the visit tomorrow? It’s nearly arranged, per your request, but under the circumstances...” She was unable to finish, when Frank spoke up.

  “I don’t know what visitor she’s talking about, but we really need to handle this now!” His voice rose to a loud pitch as his fist landed on the table. Vice President Spiering leapt to her feet, leaning forward, directing a threatening finger at the angry man. The threat of the gesture paled in comparison to the low tone of her voice.

  “Mr. Wallace, I will remind you once, that you are speaking to the President of the United States. Do not forget yourself.”

  Wing looked from his second in command to Frank, sickened by what was happening within his inner circle. He reached up and touched Holly’s arm. She looked down at him, face still stern, and he simply smiled sadly and gently gestured toward her chair. He added, “Thank you.”

  He took in the anxious expressions, some were tinged in anger...although Frank’s showed an uncharacteristic degree of regret oddly mixed with stubbornness.

  “I apologize, Mr. President...but,”

  “No, Frank. I understand.” One of the many faces of Wing Liang, but one of the most endearing, looked back at his friend; it was a face of intelligent compassion, one of humility that doesn’t compromise strength. He exhaled and looked down. He wondered if he had gone crazy; lost his grip at the time his country and world partners needed him most. His silence seemed to spread throughout the room. He looked up at the ceiling, appearing to prepare to speak, and yet he said nothing.

  This was a critical moment among critical moments. Everything he’d ever been taught told him to honor his personal convictions. But he was also a man of trust and great discretion...to say he was conflicted would have grossly understated the turmoil he battled within the confines of his own heart, gut and brain. He dropped his eyes and looked at those around him. His convictions won out, but with respect to the other considerations. He said to Pettigrew, “The visit is on.” My secret weapon, he thought, although he wondered how foolishly.

  In tune with his brain and the greater part of political discretion, he said to the others around him, “Advise me now....give me a twenty-four hour strategy, no more.” And he leaned forward, facing his most trusted circle.

  There wasn’t a person in the room who was incapable of turning an inch of opportunity into a mile – so with no question of the President’s stated limitation, they seized the moment and crafted a plan for diplomatic and military response.

  Donna Pettigrew sighed, not part of this discussion, and left the room to follow up on the ill-advised visit by one Miss Johnnie Carter, 33 years old and a 13 year veteran of the U.S. Air Force. The Chief of Staff thought for a brief and private moment that her commander in chief had one obvious thing in common with his old family friend; the file in her hand indicated Ms. Carter had been discharged for mental health reasons.

  ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Johnnie stared out of the expansive window overlooking the lights in Manhattan. Although she would have preferred a mountain range for scenery, this was beautiful in its own way. She leaned her forehead against the window; the coolness was soothing. Soothing was good. She needed whatever influence she could find to quell the storm of thoughts and emotions which teemed within. And she had to curb her natural tendency to simply escape.

  If she managed to come to some sort of peace, or at least acceptance, with this mess and end this day without bolting, she felt she might...just maybe...find a path she could navigate. Even if it was uphill and full of potholes, it just might be less frightening. She sighed and squeezed her eyes shut; basically nothing was as frightening to her as giving up the wheel, letting go of the control; but then, as had been pointed out to her more than once now...control was an illusion. What were the words? “Control is overrated...”

  Right. She thought. Maybe I should practice not breathing while I’m at it...

  She wrapped her arms around herself and used her head to push from the window, forcing herself to count blessings as she turned away from the view.

  Sylvia had pressed her to consider that she was exactly on the path she was destined for, which seemed absurdly believable after the call from Byron Hoffstedder. She also spoke, at length, and very frankly about the practical concepts of acceptance and gratitude. Something about the woman’s disposition spoke more loudly to Johnnie than her words; it wasn’t the hocus pocus mystic thing – just a calm confidence that suggested she practiced what she preached. Sylvia, as well as James, stressed the liberation and power in both acceptance and gratitude for any person, in any walk of life. But for Johnnie, they believed, incorporation of these two factors could be a matter of survival – in every sense of the word.

  So, now alone for the first time all day, Johnnie felt no pressure to respond or perform, but was willing to test the water.

  How could she fail to be grateful for the fact that she apparently had the exact right people in her life to get her through this insanity
? Not only had every one of them accepted her situation, a miracle in and of itself, but none had made her feel burdensome, which was one of her most dreaded feelings. Even the Bachweister family had been a significant leg up at the precise time she needed it. And maybe, she begrudgingly admitted to herself, not so much by chance.

  Of course, she was grateful for the thirteen years of relative normalcy with the Air Force; it gave her an identity she liked, order after a life of chaos, taught her self-respect and integrity. Apparently it didn’t teach her the downside of being solitary...and actually seemed to help her stay isolated in a weird way. How long would she have stayed that way, if....She knew she digressed and forced her thoughts into motion along with her body. Moving about the room seemed to tip her mind in a forward direction...what else?

  Mom. Although Mary was a genuine pain in the ass, Johnnie knew her mother loved her – so much, in fact, that she’d spent her prime years trying to protect her daughter from something that she didn’t understand, but something which must have terrified the young mother. Who knows how different the older woman’s life would be if she’d had a different fate. Maybe she’d be a little less crazy? Maybe she wouldn’t be alone...

  And, Johnnie thought, as she wandered aimlessly along the windows which bordered the penthouse, she knew no one could have handled Mary better than the unlikely team of Jeremy and Sandy late this afternoon; definitely something to be thankful for. It was nothing short of amazing the way the two tag-teamed in receipt of the woman, who was nearly frothing at the mouth upon arrival out of worry for her daughter, whom she knew was facing the fate she’d tried so hard to prevent.

  Sandy had charmed the socks off the woman, while Jeremy, in his very impressive official capacity, brought her up to date on every detail of Johnnie’s situation, to include the Presidential role – and Presidential protection from any further exposure by the media. This was a tidbit that Johnnie thought he’d made up to appease the old broad, until a smile and nod from James assured her it was true. Nonetheless, although their intentions were unspoken, Johnnie felt the two men knew she was at her limit and altogether unprepared to be the single target for her over-zealous madre. Mary had two extreme needs; that of being totally adored and appreciated, and that of being informed; particularly in the supreme role of “mother.” And they’d nailed it. And she was grateful.