Selected: A Thriller

by J. Allen Wolfrum

  Susan focused her attention to Greg and Tommy. “I want to talk to you about my presidency. After the inauguration, I’ll have to move to Washington, DC. I can’t stay here. What do you think about moving with me?”

  Greg and Tommy immediately gave each other a high five and yelled, “Awesome!”

  Susan looked at Earl and smiled.

  The boys went right back to their rapid-fire questions about DC and the White House. Susan had to cut them off. “I get it. I get it. You’re excited. We’re not leaving for another month. There’s plenty of time to figure it all out.”

  After Susan’s interruption, the boys focused their fire hose of questions on their grandpa.

  “Grandpa, remember the show we watched about elephants? We can go see the elephants at the Natural History Museum,” said Tommy.

  “And then we can go to the spy museum,” said Greg.

  Tommy followed, “It’s going to be awesome. At the Air and Space Museum we can fly in a rocket ship.”

  Greg and Tommy moved closer to Earl and their questions kept coming.

  Earl finally relented and replied with a sigh, “Okay, okay… boys, that’s enough, we can do all those things when we get there.” Earl’s answer diverted Tommy and Greg’s attention. They chased each other upstairs to continue researching Washington, DC.

  Susan took another bite of her Tag Along, washed it down with a gulp of milk, and walked back into the kitchen.

  Earl sighed and returned to his cowboy book, but he couldn’t hide a small smile. Rose smiled and went back to knitting her afghan.

  11

  President Wilkes walked off the stage to standing ovation after his keynote speech at the UNICEF fundraiser. He resembled a Hollywood leading man more than a former high school teacher. During his term as president, his looks combined with the stage presence he acquired as a high school teacher made him a great asset to fundraising campaigns.

  As a high school teacher he was self-conscious about the image he presented to his students. He maintained a strict diet, rigorous workout regimen, and fashionable wardrobe. During his first few years of teaching, he took motivational speaking courses in the summers to learn how to present his course material in a way that was interesting and compelling for his students.

  As president, his policy decisions were not always well received by the public, but he was the most likable president in recent memory. In the media, he was consistently compared to president John F. Kennedy.

  After dinner at the UNICEF fundraiser, President Wilkes walked toward the cocktail bar in search of a glass of water. A man dressed in a well-tailored dark blue suit, white shirt, and red tie followed him to the bar.

  The man in the dark blue suit caught President Wilkes’s attention at the bar. “President Wilkes, that was an inspirational speech.”

  Before turning to look at the man President Wilkes replied, “Well, thank you.” He then turned and extended his hand to the man in the dark blue suit. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you as well. My name is Mr. Jones, I work for your friend Mr. Anderson. He asked me to send his regards.”

  President Wilkes instantly stiffened his easygoing demeanor but stopped himself before alerting the Secret Service agents watching him. He smiled and patted Mr. Jones on the shoulder as if they had known each other for years. “Ohh really, I haven’t had a chance to talk with Mr. Anderson in a while. How’s he doing?”

  “He’s doing pretty good. His kids are both out of school now and he’s been enjoying the freedom, spending more time at the ranch with his horses.”

  “Sounds like he’s living the good life, if only we all were so lucky.” President Wilkes chuckled. “Any friend of Mr. Anderson’s is a friend of mine. Come with me, let me introduce you to some of the event organizers.” President Wilkes patted Mr. Jones on the shoulder again and walked toward his Secret Service detail who watched closely for any suspicious activity at the event.

  President Wilkes made eye contact with the Secret Service agent in charge and gave him an inconspicuous friendly half wave, as if he was greeting a friend across the room. This was a signal President Wilkes worked out with his security details early on in his presidency. The signal indicated that he needed a moment alone with whoever was accompanying him at the time.

  President Wilkes navigated through the crowd toward the restroom with Mr. Jones following behind him. Down the hallway toward the restrooms, President Wilkes slipped into a door with the nameplate Astoria Conference Room. Mr. Jones followed. He closed the door and sharply turned toward Mr. Jones.

  President Wilkes put his finger in Mr. Jones’s chest. “What the hell are you doing here? I’ve done everything you people asked of me. I made it clear you were never to contact me again.”

  Mr. Jones put both hands up in the air. “Whoa there, stud… calm down, this is a friendly visit. There’s no reason to get upset.”

  “You call threatening me at a charity event a friendly visit?”

  “Who’s threatening you? Certainly not me. Do I look like an enforcer? I’m just a messenger.”

  “Okay messenger, what’s your message? I don’t have all day, the Secret Service is going to be suspicious if I’m gone for too long.”

  “Watch your tone.” Mr. Jones paused and stared down at President Wilkes. “I assume you’ve seen the news? The new president, Susan Turner. We need you to keep tabs on her.”

  “You mean kill her?”

  Mr. Jones shook his head in dismissive confusion, then laughed. “What? Who do you think you are? James Bond? No… I want you to do exactly what I said. Keep tabs on the president: I want to know who she meets with, and I want to know what she’s planning behind closed doors. That’s it… for now.”

  President Wilkes took a step back from Mr. Jones and shook his head. “You have to be kidding me. I’m not going to be your personal spy in the White House. Not after what I already did for you. My debt is paid.”

  Mr. Jones took a quick look toward the entrance to make sure they were still alone and moved two steps closer. President Wilkes bumped against a stanchion while backing away. “I’m trying to be polite, but I don’t think you understand. That wasn’t a request, it was an order… Mr. President.”

  President Wilkes tried to hide his fear with aggression. “You can’t threaten me like that. I’m not going to be a part of this.” He turned away and took a step toward the door. Mr. Jones shrugged his shoulders in frustration, then violently grabbed President Wilkes by the shoulder and shoved him against the wall.

  Mr. Jones felt the fear quivering through President Wilkes’s shoulder as he spoke. “I think you lost your mind. Let me help you find it. You’re going to gain the confidence of Susan Turner and you’re going to keep a detailed log of her activities. And you’re going to do it without her finding out. Understood?”

  President Wilkes reached down and found a sliver of backbone. “I already told you, I’m done with you people. Tell Mr. Anderson to find another lackey to carry out his orders.”

  Mr. Jones nodded his head and sighed. “You must enjoy torturing yourself. I’ll be even more direct Mr. President. You remember the videos we have? You know, the ones with you and your students?” Mr. Jones paused as he watched President Wilkes’s face turn gray. “Ohh fantastic… you do remember. What do you think they do to people like you in jail, Mr. President? That’s if you make it that far.” Mr. Jones paused again.

  President Wilkes slouched against the wall. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

  Mr. Jones smiled. “Good. I’ll consider your apprehension a failure to communicate on my part. Thanks for the constructive feedback. We’re going to make a great team. For now, all you need to do is keep a log on Susan Turner. We’ll arrange a weekly drop. Do you think you can handle that?”

  President Wilkes sighed. “Yeah, I can do that.”

  Mr. Jones slapped President Wilkes on the shoulder and smiled. “Cheer up, mate. You’d better get back to the fundraiser. I’ll be in touch.” Mr.
Jones left the room and walked out the back entrance of the building.

  President Wilkes straightened his tie, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and walked back out to the fundraiser crowd with a smile.

  After Mr. Jones exited the building, he pulled out his phone. After two rings he heard the voice on the other end of the line.

  Mr. Anderson answered, “Hello.”

  “This is Jones.”

  “Was the message delivered?” replied Mr. Anderson.

  “It was. It took some convincing to get him to see things our way. But I think it’ll work out.”

  Mr. Anderson replied, “Good, keep eyes on him. Continue the surveillance and check-in protocols until otherwise notified.”

  “Roger that.” Mr. Jones calmly walked back to his car and continued planning his strategy for surveillance on President Wilkes.

  12

  In the days after Susan accepted the selection, the briefings preparing her for the transition to the Oval Office were overwhelming. She spent most of her time with the transition team from the White House. They set up a temporary office in the Coeur d’Alene City Hall.

  The thought of President Wilkes staying in her administration as the vice president eased many of Susan’s concerns. The presidential selection came with a four-year term: two years as the president and the following two years as the vice president. The selected representatives in the Senate and Congress got off easy, only serving two years.

  Three days before Susan and her family were scheduled to leave for Washington, DC, she finally caved into the media pressure and agreed to be on a fifteen-minute segment for CNN news. The segment would be hosted by two news anchors from CNN, Megan Richards and John Fritz. The panel consisted of Susan, whom the media labeled a conservative, and the Idaho senator select, Ethan Reynolds, who was labeled a progressive liberal by the media. Senator Ethan Reynolds was also from northern Idaho; the local Coeur d’Alene news station hosted the taping.

  Susan arrived at the station and was greeted by two men from the CNN news team. They escorted her into a green room by herself and told her to expect the live segment to start in about five minutes.

  Left alone in the green room, Susan ran through a series of terrifying questions she might be asked. She wondered why they didn’t put her and Ethan Reynolds in the same room. After less than five minutes of waiting, a CNN crew member opened the door to the green room and escorted Susan out to the set. She saw Ethan Reynolds for the first time as they walked out to the stage. Susan noted his dark brown hair and sharp blue eyes. He dressed much better than any man she had ever met from Idaho. Susan self-consciously smoothed her blouse and straightened her posture.

  Ethan extended his hand with a warm smile. “Ethan Reynolds. Nice to meet you, Madam President.”

  Susan smiled and shook Ethan’s hand. “Susan Turner, nice to meet you. I’m still not used to being called Madam President.”

  “I’m a little nervous. How do you think this will go?” asked Ethan.

  “I have no idea. I assume they’ll talk over us, try to get us to say mean things to each other, then talk about it for another week straight. Shouldn’t be anything to worry about.”

  Ethan put his right hand on his abdomen. “Tell that to the butterflies fluttering around in my stomach.”

  The television crew’s countdown interrupted their conversation. The light on top of the camera went red, indicating they were live.

  Susan tried to appear relaxed while Megan Richards led the segment with an introduction. “President Select Turner, Senator Select Reynolds, thank you for taking the time to be on the show this evening. John and I are honored to speak with you.”

  “Thank you, it’s an honor to be on the show,” said Susan.

  Ethan followed. “Thank you, glad to be here.”

  “We don’t have much time, let’s dig right into the issues. President Select Turner, we haven’t heard much from you. How is the transition process going?” asked Megan Richards.

  “Thanks for asking. Things have been hectic, which is why you haven’t heard much from me lately. The transition process has been overwhelming, I couldn’t do it without President Wilkes and the White House staff.”

  John Fritz chimed in with the next question. “President Wilkes started his presidency with a very high approval rating, but recently it has been abysmal. Many Americans are very disappointed in this administration’s recent hawkish stance on military aggression. Ethan, you’re seen as a devout liberal. How do you feel?”

  “Well, John, thanks for asking my opinion. I think President Wilkes is trying to do the right things. I’ll save my opinion until I get my feet firmly planted on Capitol Hill.”

  Megan Richards turned the question toward Susan. “President Select Turner, how do you feel about a strong military stance against the Soviets?”

  “As president, I’ll do everything in my power to protect the United States and our allies. I’m in full support of the policies and tactics President Wilkes and his team have put in place.”

  “President Select Turner, wasn’t your husband killed during combat operations in Iraq? And it has been rumored that Soviet Special Forces were responsible for his death. Don’t you think we need a strong military response?” asked Megan Richards.

  Susan searched for a response, but her mind went blank. The information about Mike’s death and their mission was classified. She could feel her heart beating. She grabbed the chair for security; but couldn’t force words out of her mouth. After the awkward pause, Susan regained her composure enough to stammer, “I’ll evaluate all possibilities once I have all the information.”

  Megan Richards followed up with another question before Susan could regain her composure. “President Select Turner, can the American people really expect you to make decisions impacting national security while you’re suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder and depression?”

  Susan froze again. She couldn’t get her thoughts untangled. Her instinct was to go on the offensive and she went with it. “My medical history has no place in this discussion.”

  Susan saw the smirk on Megan’s face and feared the worst. She knew her aggressive response would be turned against her by the veteran news anchor.

  Just as Megan Richards was about to pounce on Susan, Ethan immediately spoke up to rescue her. “That’s a great point, Megan. Soviet involvement has been escalating and we need to take appropriate measures to respond. I’ve spent some time in the Soviet Union. I’m sure you know, my family owns Reynolds & Mitchell, a global shipping company. Growing up around the family business, I’ve heard many discussions about the current hot spot of Ukraine.”

  John Fritz jumped in to take over the conversation. “Ethan, what is your role in the family company? Seems like a conflict of interest to be an owner of a global shipping company and a senator responsible for foreign policy.”

  “I’m glad you asked, John. I currently have no role in Reynolds & Mitchell. I worked there after I got my bachelor’s degree for about a year. Umm… let’s just say it wasn’t the right fit for me.” Ethan smiled.

  The rest of the conversation was focused on Ethan Reynolds and his family. Ethan’s family was well known by the general public; there were several extremely successful people in his immediate family who were at one time in the media’s focus. The shipping company Reynolds & Mitchell was accused of smuggling illegal oil and natural gas out of war-torn countries. Ethan’s uncle operated a hedge fund that was accused of manipulating currencies within the European Union. His family history provided no shortage of targets for the news anchors, and Ethan intentionally led them down every rabbit hole to kill time. Finally, the red light on the camera turned off. Susan stared blankly at the camera in shock of what just happened.

  Ethan Reynolds broke Susan out of her own thoughts. “I’m sorry about dominating the interview. But I couldn’t let them attack you like that. Once they started in on my family… well, you know, there’s lots to criticize.”

&nb
sp; Susan quickly shook her head. “Thank you, Ethan. I wasn’t prepared to talk about myself. I figured they would try to put us against each other about policy questions. I didn’t think they’d go straight into attacking me.”

  “At least it’s over. We survived to fight another day.”

  “Seems like it.”

  Ethan shot Susan a flirtatious smile. “I have to get going, but you owe me.”

  “Owe you?”

  “Yeah, you owe me dinner. I’ll even let you pick, French or Italian.”

  Susan rolled her eyes and laughed. “All right, Senator Reynolds… I’ll see you in Washington.”

  13

  The morning before the inauguration ceremony in Washington, DC, a Secret Service motorcade escorted Susan and her family to Spokane International Airport. The entire forty-five-minute ride to Spokane, Greg and Tommy peppered the two Secret Service agents with questions. The agents responded kindly to the nonstop questions, but it was obvious they were not prepared for the intensity of two eleven-year-old boys.

  The motorcade rolled onto the tarmac at Spokane International Airport. The boys’ attention diverted to Air Force One and the accompanying F-16s flying security overhead.

  Greg pointed toward the sky. “Mom, are the jets flying with us the whole way to Washington?”

  “They sure are.”

  Tommy tugged Susan’s shirtsleeve. “Mom, did you fly one of those planes in the army?”

  Susan kept her gaze into the sky as the F-16s faded into the distance. “No, but I would talk to them on the radio during our missions.”

  Greg asked, “Mom, did you have a call sign?”

  Tommy echoed the question. “Yeah, Mom, what was your call sign?”

  Susan chuckled and hesitated before answering, “I did. My call sign was Razor.”

  “That’s the coolest call sign ever, can we call you Razor?” asked Greg.

  Susan laughed, “No you absolutely cannot call me Razor. Go ahead and get on the plane.”

  The boys ran off toward the boarding ramp. Susan shook her head and could not help laughing to herself. The boys would not have been as impressed if she told them the story of how she got the call sign Razor. Susan’s leg-shaving routine tended to be less frequent than socially acceptable and the guys in the squadron definitely noticed.