Presidential Shift

by C. G. Cooper

  “Sorry to barge in like this, Mr. President,” said Cal, followed closely by Daniel, Maynor and Gaucho.

  “Who is…Congressman Quailen?” stuttered the president, rising to his feet.

  “Yes, sir,” Cal affirmed.

  “But I thought you said he was killed,” said an equally shocked Zimmer.

  Cal pushed the bloody captive into one of the pristine leather conference chairs. “That’s what we thought. Good ‘ol Pete put on quite a show.” Cal reached down and ripped the duct tape off the congressman’s mouth. “Why don’t you tell the president who really got shot.”

  Quailen stared at Cal, hatred burning. “I want my attorney.”

  “Wrong answer,” said Cal, delivering a chop to the man’s nose, instantly crushing the bridge, sending Quailen reeling, yelling curses.

  “Is that really…”

  “We’re out of time, Mr. President. Either we get the information we need, or we let a bunch of crazy skinheads kill more Americans.”

  The president looked to Zimmer.

  “Let’s try this again. Who did you dupe into dressing up as you, only to be killed in your front yard?” asked Cal, hand poised to punish another retort.

  Quailen wiped his broken nose gingerly with the back of his sleeve. “You people don’t know a fucking thing. You think we live in a black and white world. Well, let me tell you something. We live in a world of gray. It’s my world, not yours.”

  “Why don’t you cut the crap and tell us who you had murdered,” commanded the president, tired of Quailen’s bullshit.

  Congressman Peter Quailen looked up through bloodshot eyes and smiled. “Joel Erling.”

  +++

  “Sir, I just got off the phone with our guys. They went by the trailer park and everything’s on fire. The fire department arrived as they drove by.”

  “What?! What about the doctor?”

  “I still haven’t gotten him on the phone. I think we need to assume the worst.”

  “Push up our timeline. Our contact just phoned and said they’ve got Quailen.”

  “But, we only have two…”

  “Just do it. If we can’t get it done now, there may never be another chance.”

  Chapter 29

  The White House

  4:55am, December 20th

  Quailen hadn’t said another word after telling the president about the death of the former Republican congressman from Colorado. In fact, instead of talking, Quailen started laughing like a madman, marveling at how easy it had been to dupe his weak-willed colleague.

  Now secured by the Secret Service detail in a detention cell, the SSI contingent, along with the president and vice president, considered their options.

  “This still doesn’t explain his connection with the terrorists. Is it coincidence that Quailen and Erling, whom you recently outed, just happened to be part of the coordinated attacks against my wife? I find that very hard to believe.” The president hadn’t stopped pacing, even bumming a cigarette from the slightly awestruck Don Maynor.

  “I don’t know,” replied Cal. “It’s possible, but not likely. I’m more inclined to think that whoever was behind the attacks contacted Quailen, knowing he’d have nowhere else to turn. Dr. Higgins, our in-house interrogator, is on his way here. If anyone can get it out of Quailen, it’s him.”

  “Cal, what about the phone call Quailen said he got from the president? Do you think he was bluffing?” asked Zimmer.

  “Unless the president isn’t telling us something, I do think Quailen’s full of it. He seemed pretty sure of himself when we were at his place. Cocky son-of-a-bitch.”

  “He’s been that way since I’ve known him,” said the president, exhaling a plume of blue gray smoke. “Do you think my wife is really the target? Could it all be a ploy, when they’re really after me?”

  Cal shrugged. “Anything’s possible, but those videos from Detroit seemed pretty convincing. She must’ve pissed off someone pretty bad. Is the first lady here?”

  The president nodded. “She’s in the residence. Had a helluva rough week. Even asked our physician for some pills to help her sleep. Last time I went up to check on her, she was fast asleep.”

  “What about protection? She’s not planning any more events, is she?”

  The president stopped pacing. “She has a brunch in a couple hours, but it’s here. On top of that, they’ve doubled her protective detail.”

  Something still nagged at Cal, a detail they were missing. “Sir, are we any closer to finding out whether you have a leak in your administration, and if so, who that might be?”

  “We’re not. I’ve had the Secret Service re-check everyone that has daily access to me and my family. Nothing. Not even a whiff.”

  Cal didn’t like it. He still felt like they were two steps behind while whoever was behind the attacks had free reign in their movements. “I suggest they try again. From what we gathered at the trailer park, my gut’s telling me they’re about to hit again.”

  +++

  “You’re sure everything’s in place?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Tell him to proceed.”

  +++

  Neil could feel himself getting close to the source. He’d built half a castle of energy drink cans just to stay awake. The rest of his team cycled in shifts, ensuring a steady churn of data. The computer genius was the only one who hadn’t left the workspace. He’d monitored and guided the operators on the ground who’d conducted the rescue. Neil was the hub.

  “Neil, I just got access to the phone records,” came the voice from across the room. Neil looked up through his glasses.

  “Which ones?” Neil felt like they were monitoring half of Washington, D.C.

  “Congressman Quailen’s.”

  “And?”

  “He did receive a phone call from the White House last night.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. The call was made at 11:47. Want me to send you the link?”

  “Already got it.” Neil analyzed the record, but it didn’t have the phone number of the caller, just the location. It would take more digging to find out the identity of the phone used to call Quailen’s residence. I better give Cal a heads-up.

  +++

  “Thanks. Tell me when you find out.” Cal stared at his phone, worried by Neil’s revelation. He wasn’t sure if he should even tell the president.

  “Any news?” asked the president.

  Cal hesitated. “It looks like there was a phone call made to Quailen’s house, and it was from the White House.”

  “What? How is that possible?”

  Cal didn’t want to point any more fingers until he was sure. “Let me have another word with Quailen. Maybe he’s had time to rethink his position.”

  +++

  Cal and Daniel left the Situation Room, nodding to the agents standing silently outside the door. “Can you tell us how to get to where they’re holding Quailen?”

  The shorter Secret Service agent gave a quick rundown. “You want me to have someone take you?”

  “I think I’ve got it. Thanks.”

  The Marines walked without talking, each lost in their thoughts. “I think this is it,” Cal announced, pointing to a small door up ahead.

  Daniel took the lead, knocking, then entering when no reply came from inside. The sniper stepped inside, Cal right behind, each scanning the observation area. No one was there. Both men unholstered their pistols and crouched low. Cal pointed to the interrogation room, which was shrouded in darkness with the lights off. Daniel nodded, moving forward.

  A light switch perched next to the door leading into the detention area. Daniel flipped it. Cal peered into the brightly illuminated room. “Fuck.”

  Chapter 30

  The White House

  5:15am, December 20th

  The Secret Service agent knocked on the master bedroom door.

  “Yes?” came the first lady’s voice from within.

  “Ma’am, you r
equested we escort you down to the dining room. Is now a good time?”

  “Yes, please come in.”

  The agent looked around, extracted his service weapon, and stepped into the room.

  +++

  Cal’s eyes widened. Inside the interrogation room, Congressman Quailen, hands cuffed to the table, lay back, head flopped over his chair, obviously dead. Even worse, lying in a pile next to the table were three Secret Service agents, blood pooling dark red on the travertine floor.

  “Jesus,” breathed Cal.

  “Cal, the first lady,” said Daniel, already on his way to the door.

  Shaken from his momentary stupor, Cal ran after him.

  +++

  “I think I’ll go up and see my wife. Might I suggest you gentlemen get some rest? I’m sure we can find you a spot if you need one,” the president said as he stood and stretched. “As for me, I think I could use a quick shower and shave.”

  Zimmer, Maynor and Gaucho all rose and waited for the Commander in Chief to leave. “I think I’ll do the same. You guys can head down to the locker room with me if you’d like,” Zimmer offered, stifling a yawn.

  Gaucho put a finger to his ear and blanched. His pistol whipped out a split second later as he bolted for the door. “The first lady!” he yelled to the stunned Secret Service agents as he ran through. Without a word, they took the lead, sprinting to the president’s quarters.

  +++

  Luckily, Cal and Daniel had quite literally run into three Secret Service agents, still in PT gear, just coming off duty. The look in Cal’s eyes and the drawn weapons said it all.

  They reached the door leading into the first family’s residence. Cal let the agents take the lead. With practiced precision, the president’s protectors, who’d already alerted their cohorts, stacked up outside the entrance. The first man checked the door. Locked. “That’s a reinforced door. I need to call down for the keys,” he whispered.

  “Can’t you shoot it?” asked Cal, worried that the first lady might already be dead.

  The agent shook his head.

  +++

  “Mr. President, we have to get you to safety,” urged the detail commander.

  “Goddammit, that’s my wife and kids up there!”

  “I know that, sir, but…”

  “Let’s go.” They were only steps behind Gaucho’s small band, who’d just passed them. The agent looked like he wanted to say something, but then remembered his own wife and kids.

  “I’ll lead the way, sir.”

  +++

  By the time the keys got to the residence door, thirty agents waited, taut, ready to rush in.

  “Go!” came the call. They swarmed in, all thoughts of their own safety deafened by the thought of a murdered first family on their watch.

  They moved swiftly and methodically through the halls, sitting rooms and bedrooms. Screams told them they were getting closer. The troupe rushed forward, Cal and Daniel in their midst.

  “Mommy!”

  Turning a corner into the living area, Cal took in the scene. The president’s daughters clung to each other in a far corner. They screamed again at the site of the agents rushing in, training their weapons on the man, one of their own, arm wrapped tightly around the first lady’s throat, the other pressing a pistol to her ear.

  “Jamison, put the weapon down!” ordered the first agent in the room. Cal and Daniel crept forward, affording themselves a better view.

  “Fuck you! This bitch will die!”

  “Then you’ll die too. Put the—.”

  “I don’t give a shit. At least I’ll die happy knowing I took out the whore!”

  The room went silent, except for the sniffling coming from the two girls.

  “Put the weapon down, son.” The president muscled his way forward, much to the objection of his defenders.

  Agent Jamison laughed maniacally. “Maybe I’ll make it a two for one, sir,” he said with a sneer, still smart enough to cover his body almost completely with his captive and a love seat.

  “Please, tell me what you want. I promise—.”

  “Promise! You know how much bullshit I’ve listened to in this place? This is the fucking White House! It was founded by great men. Great men who are rolling in their graves knowing a bitch whore sleeps in this house of honor. Lies! All lies! You people have no idea what it means to be American!”

  The president put his arms up, stepping forward, shrugging off the hands of the closest agents. “Take me instead. Whatever you want, we can—.”

  Two shots went off, and the first lady went down.

  Chapter 31

  The White House

  5:25am, December 20th

  “Why?” asked the president, cradling his wife, tears running freely.

  “There’s a time to talk and a time to shoot, Mr. President. This is what we do,” answered Cal, who’d taken the second shot a split second after Daniel.

  The first round had taken the first lady in the arm, but more importantly, hit Jamison enough to move him into Cal’s shot, right in the face.

  “I’m sorry we shot you, ma’am,” apologized Daniel, who was kneeling to help.

  The first lady smiled weakly, blood drained from her face. “I understand. Thank you for having the courage to do it.” She lifted her good hand and stroked the side of her husband’s face. “I’ll be okay, honey. I’ve been through worse.”

  The president grabbed her hands and pressed them against his face. “I’m so sorry. We’ll get these—.”

  “Sir, the doctor’s here,” said one of the agents.

  The White House physician kneeled down next to the small crowd, doing a quick examination of the first lady’s arm. “We won’t know for sure until we take an x-ray, but it looks clean. Through and through. Let’s get her down to the clinic and then to the hospital.”

  There was a rush of activity as the agents followed the doctor’s instructions, loading the first lady onto a wheeled gurney. A minute later, the bandaged patient rolled toward the nearest elevator, the president walking alongside. The body of the deceased agent rolled out the opposite way.

  “You’ve got some guts, kid,” said Maynor, clapping Cal on the back.

  “I didn’t know you were up here.”

  “Saw the whole thing.”

  Cal grunted. “Can you still keep your mouth shut?”

  Maynor laughed. “You think I’m stupid enough to piss you off?”

  Chapter 32

  SSI Safe House, Arlington, VA

  12:17pm, December 20th

  Cal dozed on the couch, barely watching the news on the television. It was the tenth replay of the story coming out of the White House. According to the anchors, an unsuccessful attempt by a crazed former White House employee had been thwarted before anyone in the White House could be harmed.

  It never ceased to amaze Cal how gullible the media could be. If it came from the White House, it must be true. He wondered what the Secret Service would tell Agent Jamison’s family, or the families of the other deceased agents. His thoughts wandered to the men he’d lost over the years. He knew the depth of pain and second-guessing the president’s detail was going through. There would be a full-scale investigation. People would be allowed to hand in their resignations, all for the greater good. It was bullshit and Cal knew it.

  That thought followed Cal as he drifted to sleep.

  +++

  “How are the kids?” the first lady asked.

  “They’re fine. The nanny has them. I told her to spoil them, give them anything they want,” said the president, who hadn’t left his wife’s side except to see to the children.

  “Have they found out what Jamison wanted? He was always so kind to the girls.”

  “They’re looking into it. Lou said they should have something soon. Jamison was the missing piece. He wasn’t alone.”

  The first lady blinked slowly, fighting the sleep that would soon claim her. “When you find out who it was, tell me. I want the world to know.�
�

  “I’m not sure if that’s—.”

  The First Lady’s eyes hardened. “Don’t give me your line about secrecy. I was almost killed. Our children were traumatized. You were in danger. We need to stand and tell our enemies that we will not be put down.”

  The president nodded weakly. It wasn’t an argument he was prepared to have at the moment. He’d save the discussion for later. She would see reason once she’d had time to think on it.

  Chapter 33

  United State Naval Observatory

  U.S. Vice President’s Residence

  6:20pm, December 20th

  Vice President Zimmer had invited the entire SSI team to his new home. He wasn’t married, and he didn’t want to eat alone. Too many things had happened in the past week to be by himself. For the third time that night, he shook his head thinking about the company he now kept. Before meeting Cal, he never would have imagined having friends like these. He’d changed. He’d changed a lot.

  “I’ve got a club soda and a whiskey. Whose is whose?” he asked walking back into the spacious living area. Two of the operators raised their hands, and Zimmer delivered their drinks.

  “You know you don’t have to do that, right? We’re big boys,” said Cal, sipping on his own hefty pour.

  “Let’s just say that we owe you guys. Besides, I’ve got staff wiping my ass after I go to the bathroom now. I need to stay humble somehow.”

  Cal shrugged. “Your choice, but if you keep serving Gaucho like that he’s liable to think you’re part of his staff now.”

  Gaucho flipped Cal the finger and grabbed his crotch. “This is the only staff I need, jarhead.”

  Zimmer laughed along with the men, all of whom came from a very different world than the new vice president. A tinkling bell sounded from some unseen source.