Selected: A Thriller

by J. Allen Wolfrum

  Mr. Anderson asked, “What about the other boy, Tommy?”

  Mr. Jones shook his head. “I couldn’t find a way to get him alone without raising suspicion. If snatch and grab is acceptable, I can easily lure him out of a classroom. But within minutes someone would notice he’s gone.”

  Mr. Anderson took a deep breath. “Don’t worry about the other boy. Having one of her boys is good enough. You’ll need some time to get away from the school and I don’t want your identity compromised. Any issues with the escape route?”

  “None. I have a tool locker on wheels for the kid. He’ll be unconscious, so he won’t be making any noise. And Secret Service doesn’t do vehicle checks. Shouldn’t be a problem at all.”

  “How long do we have until someone notices he’s gone?”

  Mr. Jones tapped his finger on the desk. “Right after his allergy shot is recess. Nobody will notice he’s gone until after recess. Maybe longer, just depends. But we definitely have forty-five minutes.“

  Mr. Anderson sensed apprehension in Mr. Jones’s voice. “Listen… I know this isn’t easy. I don’t like the idea of involving children either. But if this is what needs to be done to accomplish the mission… then we have no choice.”

  Mr. Jones took a deep breath. “Don’t worry about me, I’ve got it under control.”

  Mr. Anderson replied, “I’m not worried about you. I know you’re dedicated to the cause. I just want you to know where I stand. This phase of violence is an ugly necessity in order to accomplish the goal. Your contributions will not go unnoticed. When we unify the world under our control and restore peace, you’ll be a part of the global leadership. You’ve earned it.”

  Mr. Jones replied, “Understood. Thanks, boss.”

  “Keep your head up, it won’t be much longer. I’ll be in touch with the next steps.” Mr. Anderson hung up the phone.

  Mr. Anderson’s executive assistant walked into the office. “Sir, General Gillingham is waiting in the second-floor conference room for you. He’s here to discuss the expansion of our military logistical contract.”

  Mr. Anderson stood up and straightened his jacket. “Thank you. I’ll be right down.”

  He walked into the conference room and shook hands with General Gillingham.

  General Gillingham looked around at the expensive artwork and raised his eyebrows. “Jack, you ever regret getting out the army?”

  Mr. Anderson shrugged his shoulders. “I miss the people. The bureaucracy… not so much.” He smiled and patted General Gillingham on the shoulder. “You know, when you finally retire, I’ve got an office for you right next to mine. Just like old times.”

  “Might be sooner than you think. Freakin’ President Turner. She doesn’t have a clue on how to deal with the Soviets. Those bastards are going to eat us for breakfast.” He continued on a tirade about Susan’s stubbornness and her shortsighted views on the Soviets.

  Mr. Anderson patiently listened and finally interrupted his rant. “Okay, okay. I get it—you don’t like her. You think she’s weak. You’ve gotta relax. And it sounds like she needs to be taken down a few notches.”

  General Gillingham’s face still showed his anger. “Damn right she does.”

  Mr. Anderson crossed his arms and slightly spread his feet. “Tom, we’ve been friends for a long time, right?”

  General Gillingham took a couple deep breaths and began to calm down. “Yeah, of course. What are you trying to get at?”

  Mr. Anderson paused to look down at the ground then back up at General Gillingham. “So, I know you’re already plotting some kind of revenge against her.” General Gillingham started to defend himself and Mr. Anderson put up a hand to stop him from talking. “So I take that as a yes.” He paused before continuing. “I don’t want to see you do something you’ll regret. Let me deal with President Turner. It’s a situation that’s better handled by someone outside the government. You have too many restraints and the blowback, if you get caught, is too risky.”

  General Gillingham took a deep breath and sighed before responding. “What do you have in mind?”

  Mr. Anderson shook his head. “It’s better if you don’t know. But I promise, I’ll deal with her. She needs to learn how dangerous hubris can be.”

  General Gillingham relaxed his posture. “You know what… you’re right. I need to let it go. But I’m not backing down on my opinions about military strategy.”

  “And you shouldn’t. Just try to be respectful about it, that’s all I’m saying.”

  General Gillingham nodded.

  Mr. Anderson smiled and changed the direction of the conversation. “Good. Let’s talk through these contract details.” Mr. Anderson took a seat at the conference table and General Gillingham followed.

  20

  Susan stood in front of the mirror in the women’s bathroom outside the Oval Office, wishing she hadn’t had the ice cream sandwich and red wine for dessert. Arianna Redmond walked into the bathroom and stood at the sink next to Susan. Susan glanced over and locked eyes with Arianna in the mirror. Arianna Redmond initiated the conversation. “Arianna Redmond, nice to meet you.” She touched up her lipstick.

  Susan stuttered, “It’s an honor.”

  Without missing a beat, still applying her lipstick, Arianna responded, “Gillingham’s a coward. Good on you for standing up to him. You know… they call me all kinds of nasty names behind my back… I don’t give a damn. I just keep on doing the right thing. They’re nothing but a bunch of sixty-five-year-old men who still act like high school kids. Don’t let it bother you.” Without waiting for a response, she walked out of the bathroom. Susan stood at the sink in shock from Arianna’s blunt perspective.

  Susan greeted Ambassador Dashkov in the Oval Office. She noted his casual dress, a light blue suit, white collared shirt, no tie, and brown shoes with no socks. This was Susan’s first meeting with the Soviet ambassador, and his pleasant and casual demeanor was not what she expected.

  Susan gave Ambassador Dashkov a warm smile and shook his hand. “I’m sorry for cutting your vacation short, thank you for taking the time to meet with me.”

  “You’re welcome, Madam President, always happy to be at your service. What can I do for you?”

  “Please have a seat. I’d like to talk to you about the American pilots.”

  Dashkov sat down on the couch and comfortably leaned back as if he were at home. “Yes, I saw the report on the news.”

  “Have you talked with President Rosinski about the situation?”

  Dashkov leaned forward. “I’m sorry, Madam President, I have not yet spoken with the Kremlin about the situation.”

  Susan nodded. “Can you give a message to President Rosinski for me?”

  Ambassador Dashkov narrowed his eyes. “Sure. What is the message?”

  Susan folded her hands. “Please tell President Rosinski that I am requesting temporary access to Soviet air space to launch a rescue mission when we find the location of the pilots.”

  Dashkov’s face hardened and he straightened in his chair. “Madam President, you’re asking us to allow you a free path to kill Soviet people on Soviet soil. In all my years in politics, I have never been so deeply offended. Do you have such little respect for the Soviet Union that you think you can simply give us orders? This is not how diplomacy works.”

  Ambassador Dashkov abruptly stood up and straightened his jacket. “Madam President, I have another meeting to attend. If you wish to discuss diplomacy, please alert my staff.” Before Susan could respond, Ambassador Dashkov turned and walked out of the Oval Office.

  Still sitting down, Susan scrambled to make sense of what just happened. Was Ambassador Dashkov really offended? Or was it just a political game of intimidation? Mason Adams interrupted her moment of despair. The pale look of disappointment on his face was more than Susan wanted to deal with at the moment. If curling up in a blanket and hiding under her desk had been an option, she would have taken it.

  “Are you all right?” asked Ma
son.

  Susan noticed the dark circles under Mason’s eyes. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

  “The press will not let go of the story about the captured pilots. They want to know what we’re doing to get them back. And when. They’re relentless.”

  “I know Mason, I know. I’ll prepare a statement for this afternoon. I’ll make the presentation to the press—you look like you need a break. Take the rest of the day off, go home and relax. I’ll be fine.”

  Mason looked down. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes… I promise, I’ll stay on schedule. Before you leave, can you have Senator Reynolds come to my office as soon as he’s free?”

  Mason smiled. “Absolutely.”

  Susan tried to wrap her mind around the meeting with Ambassador Dashkov. How was she supposed to approach the situation? The rescue team was going to need a clear air space to rescue the pilots. The only way to get a clear air space was to ask for it.

  Susan needed to get away from her own thoughts. She wandered out of the Oval Office and down the hallway. She spotted her father in the West Wing lobby, sitting in a chair with his feet up on the ottoman reading a Louis L’Amour cowboy novel. Susan startled Earl by putting her hand on his shoulder.

  “Hi, Dad. I’m glad you’re making yourself at home. No checkers this morning?”

  “Nope, not yet. The mornings are always slow. These stiffs don’t want to be late to their first meeting. I catch some interesting characters in the middle of the day. Your friend Curtis stopped by the other day.”

  “Oh yeah? How’s General LeMae doing?”

  “He’s five dollars richer after beating me. He should be ashamed of himself for taking money from an old man.”

  Susan rolled her eyes and laughed. “Yeah, he’s something. Do me a favor, take it easy on the gambling. I really don’t want to explain why my dad is running a gambling ring out of the West Wing lobby.”

  Earl chuckled and went back his Louis L’Amour novel.

  Susan walked a lap around the West Wing, then wandered outside for a few minutes of fresh air before returning to the Oval Office. Senator Reynolds sat up on the couch when Susan walked into the room; he’d dozed off while waiting for her.

  Susan walked into the Oval Office. “Make yourself right at home, Senator. Can I get you a pillow and a blanket? Maybe some cookies?”

  Senator Reynolds sighed. “Sorry, it’s been a long morning. Well, actually it’s been a long couple of months.”

  “Yeah, I’m beginning to feel the same way. I met with Ambassador Dashkov this morning… it did not go well.”

  Senator Reynolds sat up. “What happened? I met him briefly a few weeks ago. He seemed like a nice guy, invited me to play squash with him but I haven’t been able to make it happen yet.”

  Susan waved her hand. “It’s not really worth getting into the details. He’ll eventually have to see things my way—he just needs to feel some pain first. Which is exactly why I asked you to look into the options for using sanctions against the Soviet Union. Did you have a chance to look into it?”

  Senator Reynolds opened the folder on the coffee table. “I did, and I found out the president has more authority to implement sanctions than I believed.”

  Susan raised her eyebrows. “Really? Best news I’ve heard in a while.”

  Senator Reynolds looked up from the documents. “In layman’s terms, you can make a broad statement to identify people who are involved with the situation in the Ukraine. And once you identify those people, you can seize all money in their bank accounts, real estate holdings, and businesses assets, and have them deported from the United States.”

  Susan put her hands on her hips. “You’re kidding? With an executive order, I don’t need Congress or the Senate?”

  Senator Reynolds shook his head. “Nope. Just you. This is how sanctions are typically executed.”

  Susan shook her head in disbelief. “And that’s legal?”

  “Yeah, this is how things are done in Washington. Most foreign businessmen are cautious enough not to have substantial holdings in the United States. The Soviets have been getting bolder over the last few years and several prominent officials in the Kremlin have substantial holdings in the United States that could be seized. You could put some serious pressure on the Kremlin.”

  “Okay, I’ll have my legal staff draw up the executive order. I need the Soviets to know we’re serious about getting our pilots back. I’m not taking no for an answer. Dashkov is going to have to start seeing things my way. If he doesn’t want to do it willingly, then I’ll put as much pressure as necessary on him until he breaks.”

  Senator Reynolds stood up. “I’ll have my team work out the details from a foreign relations perspective. And I’ll get a list of names for the first round of sanction violators.”

  Susan shook his hand. “Sounds good to me. If the Soviets don’t want to cooperate and help us get the pilots back, I’ll make it as painful as possible.”

  Senator Reynolds raised his eyebrows. “No problem. Remind me to stay on your good side. Until our next date, Madam President.” He turned and left the room, looking back with a smile as he walked out the door. Susan was too tired to play high school games. It could wait for another time.

  Ambassador Dashkov called President Rosinski to debrief him on the meeting with Susan. He tersely described their interaction. “She walks around the White House barking orders like an army drill sergeant. I will not allow her to treat me like that. If she thinks she can shout orders at me—”

  “Enough complaining, get to the point. What did she want?”

  Ambassador Dashkov caught his breath. “She wants a secure air space on the Ukrainian border to launch a rescue mission for the pilots. I told her that under no circumstances would we allow the United States military free passage to kill Soviets within our borders.”

  President Rosinski’s face hardened. “I understand your agitation. This is most certainly not how diplomacy is conducted. We do not simply take orders from the United States. The American needs to be taught a lesson.”

  Ambassador Dashkov responded, “Thank you for understanding my frustration.”

  President Rosinski leaned back in his chair. “I need you to keep a relationship with the American government. In a few days, President Turner will reach out to you and apologize. Put your pride aside, and accept her apology. No matter how inappropriate her requests, take them in stride. She needs to feel comfortable around you. I don’t want you banned from the White House. The intelligence you gather in Washington is too important.”

  Ambassador Dashkov nodded in agreement. “Understood. Thank you, Mr. President.”

  21

  Jack Anderson opened his eyes to rays of sunshine penetrating the blinds. He sat up straight in the bed and quickly scanned the room. For a moment, he felt lost. He recognized the end table and lamp on the opposite side of the bed and relaxed. He sighed, ran his hands through his hair, and cursed himself. Jack Anderson represented many things to many people, but beneath it all, he was still a man.

  Jack heard noises from two people downstairs. One person walked around the kitchen, opened the fridge, and put a frying pan on the stove. The other turned off the shower and paced around the bathroom.

  The open closet door caught his eye. His shirt, suit jacket, and pants hung on the doorknob. Directly below, on the floor, his socks, underwear, and white T-shirt were placed on top of his shoes. Jack got out of bed, quickly jumped in the shower, got dressed, and walked downstairs.

  Before Jack made it down the stairs, Zoe greeted him with a sarcastic shout from the kitchen, “Uncle Jack, how do you like your eggs?” She then immediately turned to her mother. “Do I really still have to call him Uncle Jack? Aren’t I old enough to stop pretending?”

  Emily did a poor job of hiding her frustration and snapped back, “Watch your tone. Mr. Anderson is a guest in our house.”

  “Not my guest,” snapped Zoe.

  Jack walked into the kit
chen and attempted to diffuse the tension. “Zoe, you can absolutely call me Jack. How old are you now? Fourteen?”

  “I’ll be fifteen in two months.”

  Jack smiled. “Of course, how could I forget.”

  Zoe grabbed her backpack from the back of the chair and looked at Jack. “It was good to see you again… Jack.” She announced, “I’m late for the bus,” and walked out of the kitchen. She turned around before opening the front door. “Jack, did you get the backstage passes for the Taylor Swift concert next week?”

  Jack replied, “I did and I’ll leave them with your mother.”

  “Thanks Jack.” Zoe ran out the door.

  Emily looked at Jack with a raised eyebrow. “She’s sure got your attitude. I know it’s just a phase but she’s more than I can handle right now.”

  Jack smiled. “She’ll get through it. I don’t imagine you were an angel at that age, either.”

  Emily rolled her eyes. “No, I certainly was not.”

  Jack poured two cups of coffee. He added half a spoonful of sugar and a few drops of milk to Emily’s coffee. Emily scooped out a pile of scrambled eggs and hash browns onto their plates. Jack opened up the Wall Street Journal and handed Emily the front page while he read the markets section.

  Jack could feel Emily’s eyes staring at him through the paper. He did his best to ignore it and kept his head buried in the paper. Jack couldn’t hold out any longer, he felt Emily’s eyes burning an actual hole through the paper. He put down the paper and asked, “Is there something you want to talk about?”

  Emily pursed her lips. “Zoe is starting to get in trouble at school. I think it’s because she’s bored. I want to send Zoe to private school next year. I need your help.”

  Jack nodded. “Okay… what school? I might know someone on the admissions board.”

  “Trinity… it’s a good school and it’s not far away. She needs more of a challenge.”