Selected: A Thriller

by J. Allen Wolfrum

  Susan blushed and shyly responded, “It looks great.”

  Kate asked, “Did you like the dress I picked out for your inauguration?”

  So much happened that day, Susan had no idea what she wore, but she didn’t want to be rude. “It was a fantastic choice, thank you picking it out.”

  Kate bubbled with excitement. “Great, I’ve got some other ideas I’d like to try out with you. When do you want to do a fitting? I have a pair of—”

  “Kate, can we pick this up another time? I’m sure President Turner wants to hear all about the designs you’ve picked out for her but we’re running late this morning.”

  Kate responded, “Ohh, absolutely. Please don’t let me make you late. I’m so glad you stopped by.” Kate took the bobby pins out of Susan’s hair and put it back in place. “President Turner, it is such an honor to meet you. I’ll coordinate with Mason to find a time in your schedule for us to do a formal dress fitting.”

  Susan stood up and awkwardly hugged Kate. “Thank you so much. I can’t wait.” She had no doubts about picking up the rhythm of work in the White House but being fashion conscious wasn’t going to come as easy.

  Susan followed Mason out of the room and he kept talking about the remaining items on her agenda as they walked down the hallway toward the Oval Office. Susan tuned out the words that came out of his mouth. Every time she checked into a new unit in the army there was an overly excited administrative clerk who made the job sound impossible. Mason was no different. Susan continued to follow Mason around the White House as he explained the different meeting rooms and security protocols.

  Susan felt a sense of relief when her tour ended in the Oval Office. Susan sat down on the couch and looked at her watch: 8:50 a.m., ten minutes before her next meeting. Mason handed Susan a government-issued cell phone.

  “There’s nothing special about the phone except the itinerary app. It has all of your meeting details and contact info.” Mason gave Susan a stern look. “And it also has an itinerary reminder function. Just a friendly reminder to help you stay on schedule.”

  Susan looked up from the phone. “Anything else I need to know?”

  “Vice President Wilkes is your next meeting, right here in the Oval Office.” Mason paused. “No chance of you being late.”

  Susan watched Mason close the door to the Oval Office and slumped in her chair. She opened the itinerary app on her phone and clicked on the meeting titled “Vice President Wilkes—Welcome Aboard.” She clicked a small pencil icon in the upper-right-hand corner of the meeting title. She added to the title of the meeting, “Mother would swoon—I wish he was a little younger :)” Susan chuckled to herself.

  Susan stood up when Vice President Wilkes walked through the doors of the Oval Office. Susan noted that he was exceptionally well dressed. Vice President Wilkes wore a tailored dark gray suit, white shirt, blue tie, and matching pocket square. His hair was perfectly combed and Susan could smell a hint of cologne when she shook his hand.

  Vice President Wilkes smiled. “President Turner. It has a nice ring to it. Sounds right.”

  Susan blushed. “Thank you. It’s an honor. I’ve got some big shoes to fill.”

  Susan’s phone vibrated on the coffee table. The speaker was on full volume as her itinerary app announced the meeting, “Your meeting… Vice President Wilkes… Welcome Aboard… Mother would swoon… I wish he was a little younger… smiley face emoticon… begins in one minute at 9:00 a.m. Eastern.” Susan dove for the phone and silenced the speaker.

  Vice President Wilkes burst into laughter. “You’ll have to introduce me to your mother.”

  Susan’s face felt like it was on fire. “I’m so sorry. I was just playing around with the itinerary app. I had no idea—”

  Vice President Wilkes put up his hand to stop Susan. “It’s okay, it’s okay, no worries. Mason’s gadgets threw me for a loop, too.” Vice President Wilkes rolled his eyes. “He sure is a stickler for the rules. Speaking of which, I brought you a present.” He handed Susan an engraved wooden box with a Montblanc pen inside.

  Susan was still short of breath from embarrassment. “Thank you. I don’t even know what to say. I feel like I should have gotten you something.”

  “Ohh no, it’s quite alright. During my presidency, I found myself spending most of my time behind that desk and I could never find a pen when I needed one. After about two months, I finally caved in and put one of these on my desk. Well, anyway… I thought you might find it useful.”

  “Thank you.” Susan struggled to find the appropriate response. She put the pen and case on her desk. “I have no doubt it’ll get some use.”

  “So… how are you feeling? Has it settled in? Or are you still in shock about being the president?”

  Susan shrugged her shoulders. “Honestly, I’m really not that worried about it. This all feels the same as being in the army. It’s a routine. Once you settle into the routine, it all works itself out.”

  Vice President Wilkes nodded his head. “Yeah, I agree. Once I got the lay of the land, it went pretty smooth. But it was a rough road for me. You’re already doing better than I ever did. I’m a high school teacher — being around all these military people is intimidating. I got bullied a lot in the beginning of my presidency. Can I give you some advice?”

  Susan eagerly nodded. “Absolutely.”

  “Well… as you’ve seen, there’s a lot to get used to. Most of it comes pretty easy. But there are two big challenges I faced.” Vice President Wilkes smiled. “The first was figuring out how to deal with Mason. As you saw this morning, he’s a bit… umm… particular about some things. In the classroom, I’m used to being in charge of the curriculum and schedule. It wasn’t easy for me to give that up. He’s a good guy and he’ll do right by you. But you have to find a way to work with him.”

  Susan smiled. “Noted. That’s number one on my to-do list. I was late this morning. We got off to a bit of a rough start.”

  Vice President Wilkes chuckled. “Well… like I said, he’s a good guy. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. And once you do, your life is going to get much, much better.” Vice President Wilkes paused and leaned forward. “This is between you and me. Understood?”

  Susan sat up straight. “Of course.”

  “Every day you’re going to be swamped with decisions. And some of those decisions are ugly. It’s just the nature of the job. You’re going to make decisions that you regret. No matter what happens, don’t let anyone push you into decisions that compromise your integrity. It’s a slippery slope and once you start down that path, it’s impossible to turn around.”

  Susan looked down to the ground and solemnly nodded her head. “Understood. It’s good to hear the warning from someone who’s been in these shoes.”

  Vice President Wilkes quietly clapped his hands together. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to turn this into a depressing meeting. Sooo… it seems like your mom is a fan of mine. What can I do for her?”

  Susan laughed. “Oh, I think just telling her that I met you is enough.”

  “What’s her name?”

  Susan’s face turned pink with embarrassment. “Rose.”

  “What a beautiful name.” Vice President Wilkes picked up a pen on the coffee table and scribbled a quick personal note: “Dearest Rose—Best Wishes—President Wilkes.” He reached into his left breast pocket and wrapped the note with his pocket square. “For your mother.”

  Susan smiled. “Oh my gosh, you didn’t have to. But she’ll love it.”

  Susan listened eagerly as Vice President Wilkes continued to flatter her with compliments and stories from his own tenure in the White House until Mason Adams opened the door. “Madam President, I’m sorry to interrupt but it’s time to get ready for your next meeting.”

  Vice President Wilkes stood up from the couch and shook Susan’s hand. “Until next time, Madam President.”

  16

  Vice President Wilkes met Mr. Jones at the Gelman Library in Washington, DC. H
e meandered around the library before finding Mr. Jones in the classic literature section reading a copy of Julius Caesar. Mr. Jones closed the book. “Always good to catch up on the classics.” He gave Vice President Wilkes a sinister smile. “Et tu, Brute?”

  Vice President Wilkes glared back without responding.

  Mr. Jones carefully put the book back on the shelf. “Do you have something for me?”

  Vice President Wilkes handed Mr. Jones a small flash drive.

  “What’s on it?”

  Vice President Wilkes smirked. “You wanted to know what’s happening in the Oval Office. Now you have a front row seat for the show.”

  “What?”

  Vice President Wilkes responded, “I planted a listening device in the Oval Office.”

  Mr. Jones furrowed his brow. “Tell me more about this listening device.” He poked his index finger into Vice President Wilkes’s chest. “You’re not as clever as you think. That office gets swept for electronics twice a day. If they find—”

  Vice President Wilkes cut him off. “They aren’t finding anything. This is state of the art; the surveillance sweeps won’t pick it up. And there’s no chance of it leaving the Oval Office. The device is hidden inside a Montblanc pen case I gave to President Turner as a welcome gift. She didn’t really want it, but now she feels guilty. Zero chance of her taking it off the Oval Office desk.”

  Mr. Jones snarled. “Fair enough. If it becomes a risk, we’ll take the device out of play.” Mr. Jones looked around to make sure they were alone. “We’re switching our meet locations every week. Next week, Georgetown Neighborhood Library, got it?”

  “Why do we have to meet in person? Why can’t I just drop off the disk on a park bench somewhere?”

  Mr. Jones smiled. “Because I don’t trust people like you.” He leaned closer and whispered into Vice President Wilkes’s ear, “Remember… I’m always watching.” Mr. Jones grabbed Vice President Wilkes by the suit jacket lapels and pretended to straighten his jacket. He leaned back and patted Vice President Wilkes firmly on the shoulder. “Good talk old friend. See ya next week.” Without waiting for a response, Mr. Jones stepped past Vice President Wilkes and disappeared.

  After leaving the library, Mr. Jones quickly walked west for a block and doubled back to a concealed location with a view of the library entrance. He spotted Vice President Wilkes walking down the front steps of the library. His head was on a swivel; he was clearly looking for someone. Vice President Wilkes’s gaze focused on a newspaper stand across the street. Mr. Jones watched while Vice President Wilkes quickly walked across the street and had an animated conversation with a serious-looking man in a dark gray jacket and jeans. The man remained deathly still while Vice President Wilkes gestured wildly with his hands. The conversation ended as abruptly as it started.

  Mr. Jones carefully followed the man in the dark gray jacket and jeans. He kept up for four blocks, then the man in the dark gray jacket ducked into the Metro station and effortlessly slipped away. Mr. Jones had been right not to trust Vice President Wilkes.

  Later that evening, Mr. Anderson pulled a cell phone from his desk drawer and dialed a number from memory.

  “Good evening, Mr. Jones, do you have an update?”

  Mr. Jones replied, “Yes. I received the first drop from Vice President Wilkes. He planted an audio device in the Oval Office. I’ll have my contacts in security get the electronic sweep protocols and logs. I’ll make sure it isn’t detected.”

  “Good. I want a copy of the audio files. What else?”

  “It seems that Vice President Wilkes has hired his own private surveillance. I spotted them outside the drop—”

  Mr. Anderson interrupted, “Did you ID them?”

  “No. It was just one man. I followed him for four blocks but he lost me on the Metro. I’ll take care of the situation.”

  “I don’t need to remind you of what happens if he is able to provide evidence of your relationship.”

  “No, sir. I’ll take care of the problem.”

  “Updates on your secondary mission?” asked Mr. Anderson.

  “Yes. I was able to get eyes on. But there are too many Secret Service agents around for me to be there every day. There isn’t enough foot traffic around the school to stay hidden. If I’m in the area more than once a week, it will arouse suspicion.”

  Mr. Anderson tapped his fingers on his desk before responding. “I was hoping for less of a Secret Service presence.” He paused before continuing. “I need you to come up with a plan to take the children without using force. You’ll need to be at least an hour away before the Secret Service is alerted of their disappearance.”

  Mr. Jones paused before responding, “I’ll have to give it some thought. I may have to get others involved.”

  “Come up with the plan first. Then we’ll discuss. That will be all.” Mr. Anderson ended the call.

  Mr. Anderson twisted the West Point class ring on his right hand. He disliked the thought of using Susan’s family as leverage. If she reacted according to plan, he wouldn’t have to get her children involved. But if he needed to use this ugly option, it would happen in a rush and the plan would already have to be in place. Mr. Anderson stared out the window and mentally prepared himself for what he might need to do. He took off his West Point ring, placed it neatly in the desk drawer, and continued his work.

  17

  During her time as a Black Hawk pilot in the army, Susan gained the respect of her fellow soldiers with her willingness to take calculated risks on the battlefield. As a squadron commander, she led from the front and gained a cult-like devotion among the soldiers in her squadron. She wasn’t the person you wanted on a conference call, but in a firefight, you wanted her on your side. She earned the reputation of being a soldier’s soldier.

  After breakfast, Susan walked upstairs to grab her daily itinerary folder. Walking down the hallway, she focused on the open East Bedroom door. She walked closer and stopped in the hallway outside the door. Bedsheets were on the floor, dirty clothes were on top of the dresser, and Legos were scattered across the floor.

  Susan yelled downstairs, “Greg! Get up here right now!”

  She heard a loud sigh from Greg downstairs. “What?”

  “Don’t make me say it again!”

  Greg stomped his feet as hard as possible on every step of the stairs toward his bedroom. Susan paced the hallway with her hands on her hips. She caught herself before the anger made it to the surface. She stopped moving, closed her eyes, and took two deep breaths to regain control.

  “What?” said Greg with as much attitude as he thought he could get away with.

  Susan briefly closed her eyes to gain her composure and simply described the situation to Greg. “Your room isn’t clean.”

  “I know.”

  Susa calmly nodded her head. “Good… so we’re starting on the same page. One of our rules is to clean your room before you go to school every day. Why isn’t your room clean today?”

  “Because I don’t have to clean my room, Norma cleans my room.”

  Susan nodded her head again, walked into Greg’s room, and sat down on the bed. “Greg, come in here and sit down. We need to talk.”

  Greg gave her a confused look. “Okay, Mom.”

  “Listen Greg, Norma isn’t going to clean your room anymore. You are going to be responsible for cleaning your own room, just like at home.”

  Greg looked at her with questioning eyes. “Why?”

  “Because there won’t always be someone as nice as Norma here to help you. Norma isn’t going to clean Tommy’s room anymore either. Every morning I’m going to come up here and check your rooms before school. Understood?”

  Greg nodded in agreement. “Yes, Mom.”

  “Good. You’d better get back downstairs before you miss your ride to school.”

  Susan leaned back on the bed and listened to Greg running down the stairs. She closed her eyes and wondered how she let life get to the point where her kids relied
on the maid to clean their bedrooms. It wasn’t their fault; they were only eleven years old.

  Susan looked at her vibrating cell phone and picked it up. She remained lying on her back with the cell phone over her head as she read a message requesting a meeting in the Situation Room. Susan put the phone down and stayed on the bed for another thirty seconds. The meeting wasn’t for another hour and she needed time to clear her mind.

  Susan met her chief of staff, Mason Adams, in the hallway en route to the Situation Room. On the walk to the Situation Room, Mason was unusually quiet. The silence started Susan’s mind racing through worst-case scenarios. After a few seconds, her thoughts spiraled out of control, and she quickly shook her head and cleared her mind before opening the door to the Situation Room.

  Susan walked into an unusually empty Situation Room—only the joint chiefs of staff and directors were in attendance. Before today, for every meeting in the Situation Room, the Joint Chiefs of Staff brought intelligence, military, and foreign relations experts to answer any specific questions regarding the situation at hand. Susan paused before taking her seat at the head of the conference room table. She sensed a mood of anger and contempt from the men in the room. Susan locked eyes with Arianna Redmond, director of the FBI, hoping for a clue about what was happening. Her eyes revealed an intense anger—Susan took note of the beads of sweat on her forehead.

  General Gillingham nodded solemnly and began. “Ninety minutes ago, two U.S. Air Force pilots were shot down by a surface-to-air missile near the Yeline region of the Ukraine. We believe they safely ejected from their aircraft on Ukrainian soil. We have not had radio communication with them since their ejection.” He paused to let the message resonate and continued. “We were able to get the speed, altitude, and location of the aircraft prior to impact. The F/A-18 was flying far above the range of any shoulder-fired surface-to-air missile. The missile fired must have been ground based, with a sophisticated radar system. The missile fired was likely from an S-400 class surface-to-air missile system.”

  Susan filled the silence. “My anti-aircraft weapon knowledge is a bit out of date. But from what I remember, the only surface-to-air missile systems capable of reliably shooting down a fixed wing aircraft were owned by the Soviet Union. And even when those weapon systems ended up in the hands of foreign governments, they were very difficult to train personnel to use them properly. Is that still the case?”