The President

by Parker Hudson

  Hugh turned toward her. “Why not?”

  “I guess for all the same reasons that a lot of guys don’t stay in—the long periods at sea. The pay. The difficulty in starting, or keeping, a family. The navy is definitely not easy. I can’t imagine how a married man does it, much less a married woman.”

  “It’s definitely not easy. But where else could we be doing what we’re doing? And have so much fun with such wonderful people!”

  “You know, Hugh, I used to think exactly that, too. But you want to hear something really ironic? I don’t think that navy is going to exist much longer. The final irony is in all the navy’s had to go through to make it compatible for us women and gays and lesbians, all this worry about who said what and why and who thinks what—all that stuff—it’s changed the navy from what it must have been before all this started.”

  Hugh began to speak, but she raised her hand. “I know, I know—I’m one of the women who wanted in, and now it sounds like I’m griping. Well, I guess in a way I am—not at you, Hugh, or most of the men in this outfit. It’s just that I never realized what we’d all have to go through in order to make this change—not just us—I mean what the navy itself would have to go through. Hugh, man or woman, I don’t want to be on a ship where someone is checking on the correctness of your thoughts; and no one can tell jokes; and a hug is either an invitation to instant sex or sexual harassment; and nobody knows which is which without a referee. I mean, it’s just crazy! This isn’t the navy I wanted to be in, and I realize—how much I realize!— that it’s partly my fault, mine and others like me. It’s a mess, Hugh. I don’t know what to do, and sometimes I feel terrible about it.”

  Hugh looked out at sea and then back at Teri. “Boy, ask a simple question...” He grinned. Then his expression grew serious. “You’re probably going to think this is a dumb response, but hear me out. Trust the Lord on this one. And vote next month for Sandra Clayton. She’s the one from our district who I think has her head on straight and can help William straighten this stuff out. We certainly can’t! We’re supposed to get in from that recruiting weekend in New York by Tuesday morning, so we should have plenty of time to vote.”

  “I hope and pray it’s that easy, Hugh. I know you pray a lot. Maybe sometime I could come to your church with you and Jennifer.”

  “Sure. Come this Sunday. We’d love to have you.”

  “I’ll think about it. And I probably will vote for Sandra Clayton. I think the country could use a good dose of her common sense.”

  “I know the navy certainly could.”

  THE STRAITS OF GIBRALTAR—While the Fortson made her way into Norfolk, the Bright Star was just leaving the Mediterranean Sea on a beautiful and full-moon October evening. As the freighter broke out of her home for the previous three years and headed out into the Atlantic, Sadim and Kolikov joined the captain on the bridge, the excitement evident among every member of the hand-picked and well-trained crew.

  “Ten days and we’re in America,” Kolikov stated more to himself than to either of his companions, the dim red lights from the gyrocompass repeater reflecting in his face.

  “With holy work to do,” Sadim quietly reminded him.

  “Yes, of course,” Kolikov replied, though they knew the Russian did not share their faith and had worked with Sadim for these years because of steady deposits into his bank account in Switzerland, not because of religious fervor or need for revenge.

  “We seem to have been blessed,” Sadim continued, “and your work appears to have gone well. We have installed the best equipment and trained long hours. The result is now out of our hands.”

  There was silence among the three of them for several minutes as the Bright Star left Gibraltar behind and plowed westward with its deadly cargo.

  “Tell me, Sadim,” Kolikov finally asked. “Why did we have to hurry to gain these weeks?”

  Sadim smiled in the dark. “Because of the gift President Harrison gave us with his special challenge for the American elections. You see, our original plan to appear at their Thanksgiving holiday and to demand our rights, including the return of the land Israel stole from us, was good. But now we can bargain for those plus the election of a Congress that will be truly sympathetic to our needs, because it will not be dominated by either Christians or Jews! We will get rid of Harrison, gain our demands, and elect people who neither know nor revere their Bible. It’s truly a gift for us!

  “And the best thing is that while they could theoretically double-cross us on the other demands, even with our deadly threat, they can neither postpone nor undo their election. Once someone is elected, even under strained circumstances, he will remain elected. So in the long run we should gain even more tangible results from the people we help to elect.”

  “I see,” Kolikov replied. “Yes, I see. You are right. And it does sound like it will work well.”

  “We shall see,” Sadim said quietly. “We shall see.”

  27

  Christianity, general Christianity, is and always has been a part of the common law.... Thus this wise legislature framed this great body of laws, for a Christian country and Christian people.... No society can tolerate a wilful and despiteful attempt to subvert its religion, no more than it would to break down its laws—a general, malicious and deliberate intent to overthrow Christianity, general Christianity.

  SUPREME COURT OF PENNSYLVANIA

  UPDEGRAPH V. THE COMMONWEALTH, 1824

  Friday, November 1

  Two Weeks Later

  EAST OF NEW YORK—The Bright Star arrived early at the designated coordinates and loitered for two days until rendezvousing with its much smaller back-up ship, the New Dawn, an ocean-going yacht outfitted with two sleek small boats and a helicopter. The two ships ran alongside each other for over an hour, passing messages by low-power, coded radio. Once their discussions were finished, Sadim waved to his old friend and counterpart on the smaller ship, knowing they would be together to celebrate their victory by the following Tuesday night.

  As the ships opened up a more comfortable distance between them and turned toward their target, Sadim reflected on the news passed to them from Wafik. He would be in New York City by that afternoon and in position to observe the harbor from an office he had rented for just this purpose the previous month. Although the election polls were narrowing, the consensus still seemed to be that an anti-Christian majority would be elected, which made Sadim even more certain that their special “nudge” would insure that result. But the best news from Wafik that morning was that President Harrison himself would be in New York that Monday morning for a final rally, a gift Sadim considered to be a divine signal of blessing from heaven.

  He will turn and run like the coward that he and his Christian blasphemers are! And then the victory for us will be all the greater!

  The most important weekend of Sadim’s life, the culmination of all he had dreamed of and worked for over the past twenty years, was beginning very well indeed.

  ATLANTA—Rebecca felt a little intimidated, but her anger kept her going. She had been sitting alone in her car in the staff parking garage attached to Peachtree North Hospital. It was very early, but she’d already been there thirty minutes. She hoped, as she waited across from Harvey Thompson’s assigned space, that it would not take too long.

  A few minutes later Dr. Thompson swung his European touring car into his space and opened the driver’s door. Rebecca quietly did the same. He picked up a briefcase from the back seat and then closed the door. Rebecca walked across the concrete deck toward him.

  “Dr. Thompson?”

  He looked up quickly and frowned, then tried to smile. “Oh. Hello, Ms. Harrison...I, uh, understand you’ve been trying to call me.”

  She reached him, and they stood together next to his car. “Yes. For two weeks. I’m glad to know that you at least got the messages, even if you didn’t return my calls.”

  He smiled again. “Sorry. I was on vacation until Wednesday, then yesterday was crazy. This is
a little strange, here. What can I do for you that’s so important we have to meet in the parking garage?”

  “You can tell me about Eunice Porter and Sally Kramer and what I think was a business to abort full-term babies and then sell their vital organs to out-of-state recipients.”

  Rebecca watched his face, but no surprise registered. “Those are pretty strong statements, Nurse Harrison. What makes you think that of me?”

  She told him about her record-check with Alex and then about his finding the coincidences with the organ transplant entries on the same days.

  “I’m afraid you’ve jumped to some pretty wild conclusions based on nothing more than coincidence. You should be careful what you say about people, particularly professionals with reputations.”

  “That’s why I’ve been trying to see you all this time to find out if you have any explanation first before I start checking with the individuals involved.”

  “I see. Well, you know those abortions were completely legal at the time and will be again soon, if either we win our case next month or your brother is defeated on Tuesday as we all expect him to be.”

  “Selling body parts from abortions of any term was and is against the law,” Rebecca said firmly.

  “So you plan to be a good detective and uncover a nefarious ring of baby killers? You should stick to nursing.”

  “I will. But I’ve been around babies all my life, and it’s been bad enough to see them killed for convenience—killing them for money just might get me real angry.”

  “I see.” He turned and started walking toward the elevator lobby. Rebecca followed. He continued, “And what about the other babies who might have been tremendously helped—even had their lives saved—by such a hypothetical transplant? Don’t they need some protection under the law? Does your joy for them equal your anger for the others?”

  “I guess I’m happy for them in one sense, but I’m upset at doctors who would break the law and play God for profit.”

  “If this ever actually happened, as you allege.”

  “Yes.”

  They reached the elevators. He pushed the button and turned to face her. “Ms. Harrison, let me suggest that no one, particularly a district attorney, is going to care one bit about something—even if it ever really happened—that between the courts and the election on Tuesday should be completely legal by the time you could get around to saying anything about it. Both full-term abortion and the donating of critical organs from abortions to those in verified need are in the vice president’s platform. I think it’s a foregone conclusion that your brother will not be our president much longer. So I suggest you just let this rest. Detective work is sometimes dangerous business, and even if you turn out to be brilliant at it, no one will care. Now, I’ve got several early operations waiting, so if you’ll excuse me...”

  He walked into the elevator, turned and smiled silently at her while the doors closed.

  WASHINGTON—“I hate to be away from you for these days, Carrie,” William said as he buttoned his shirt that morning in their dressing room. “But if we were to lose on Tuesday by a slim margin, I’d feel terrible that we didn’t give it all we had at the end, especially with Patricia’s rally at the Jefferson Memorial.”

  “I know. And two of us can be in twice as many places.”

  “It’s wonderful of you to do this, Carrie.”

  “Hey, I’ve kinda gotten used to living here. I’m not ready to leave after only two years. And think what will be possible when a godly Congress is elected!”

  “I like your enthusiasm, dear,” William said, giving her a hug. “I’m leaving in a minute—I’ll grab breakfast on the plane. We start in Dallas and work around the coast all weekend at dinners and rallies. I’ll get to New York on Sunday night, and we’ll have the last big rally in Central Park at noon, when you’re in Chicago. Then we’ll collapse back here together Monday night.”

  “You know Katherine will be in New York at the same time with Mary and Sarah, attending that hearing on the sex education computer. Too bad you can’t get together.”

  “Now that she’s escaped most of the Secret Service hassles at college, I’m sure the last thing she wants is to see me in New York! No, let’s just let her be a private citizen with her aunt.”

  “You’re probably right. Well, God bless you, William. It’s been a wonderful joy since June a year ago, whatever happens on Tuesday.”

  He enfolded her in his arms again. “You’re right, Carrie. And what a miracle you are. None of this would have happened without your prayers and your help.” He kissed her, then let her go. “See you Monday night.”

  As she watched him go she felt an odd uneasiness. It settled over her like a dark cloud, and she found herself trembling. Quickly she knelt by their bed, giving her family once again to the Lord for his protection.

  NEW YORK—The Fortson steamed into New York harbor that morning and moved up the Hudson River to a berth at the Forty-sixth Street pier next to the ships of the USS Intrepid Museum. As was now their standard routine for these recruiting weekends, the crew secured all the electronic gear and put away anything that might easily walk off with a visitor. At noon, with all the ship’s systems turned off, two-thirds of the crew went on liberty in the Big Apple, while the other third prepared to open key parts of the cruiser to visitors starting at two that afternoon. The ship would be open all day Saturday and Sunday. They were scheduled to depart Monday at eleven for the trip back to Norfolk.

  Early that afternoon Wafik arrived in New York on the shuttle from Washington. He took a taxi to Two World Trade Center at the Battery, where he had leased an office wrapping around the southwest corner of the ninety-eighth floor, giving him a commanding view of the entire harbor. Since he had paid in advance, no one questioned why the office had been vacant for the first month. Now Wafik carried a designer duffel bag that contained food, a camp chair, sleeping bag, lap-top computer, three cellular phones, binoculars, a walkie-talkie, and more.

  He set up his command post and surveyed the harbor and rivers below. He was pleased to confirm that he could see everything that moved from the mouth of the Hudson River on the west around the harbor and up a portion of the east side. And he was particularly pleased that the only ship tied up at the docks at the Governor’s Island Coast Guard Station, just off the tip of the Battery, was an unarmed buoy tender.

  But as strategically placed as the office was for watching the harbor, it was not possible to see very far up the Hudson River, because One World Trade Center, located just to the northwest, blocked the view in that direction; the pier at Forty-sixth Street was completely out of Wafik’s sight.

  ATLANTA—Despite her many other duties, Rebecca thought all day about what Dr. Thompson had said to her that morning. She alternated between agreeing with him that her investigation would prove fruitless and feeling outrage that he would harvest unborn children.

  She finally decided late that afternoon that she had to know more. She called Eunice Porter’s home number but got an answering machine and decided not to leave a message. There was the same result at Sally Kramer’s home, the only other woman she felt she knew well enough to call with so little to go on. As she left for the gym, she resolved to keep trying all weekend until she reached one of them.

  NEWYORK—On Saturday morning the Bright Star and the New Dawn parted about fifty miles offshore, and the larger ship continued toward New York harbor with its nearly three-quarter megaton, Soviet-built nuclear warhead. The cabin cruiser slowed and followed the same course an hour later at a reduced speed.

  In the early afternoon the freighter’s captain radioed the harbor pilots’ office; the ship was expected. The customary paperwork had been filed a week earlier by an agent acting at the request of a shell corporation in Cyprus, set up years before by Wafik. A harbor pilot was dispatched to meet the ship and guide it to an anchorage, instead of a pier, which the captain had requested in order to perform some repairs on the steering motors. A coded fax received by Sa
dim in the Bright Stars command center, one level below the bridge, confirmed from Wafik that everything in the harbor appeared to be normal.

  An hour later the New York harbor pilot arrived on the bridge, and the captain nonchalantly mentioned that if there was a choice, this being their first and probably only stop in the famous American port, the crew would like an anchorage as close to the bright lights at the end of Manhattan as possible, while they remained on board and made their repairs. The pilot was an obliging man. Soon, after navigating the lower harbor and the Narrows, they dropped anchor at a location just south of Governor’s Island in upper New York Harbor, off the southeastern tip of the nation’s most expensive real estate.

  ATLANTA—Rebecca called both Eunice and Sally all during the morning between running errands. By early afternoon she was frustrated by the lack of an answer. She told herself that Eunice or her sister had to be home at supper time to cook for her children, and she decided that she would head over to the address she had copied down on Friday and wait, as she had done for Harvey Thompson, if there was still no answer by five.

  When the call from her car at that hour produced no results and a check with the hospital confirmed that Eunice was not in the maternity ward, Rebecca shook her head and turned toward the street where Eunice’s family lived.

  On arriving she knocked at the door of the townhouse apartment. When there was no answer she returned to her car to wait. Detective work seems to include a lot of sitting, she thought. But there’s no way I’m going to stay here past dark.

  She didn’t have to wait nearly that long. Soon in the rearview mirror she saw Sally Kramer walking up the sidewalk with two small children who were about the ages of Eunice’s kids. As the three of them neared the steps to the townhouse, Rebecca left her car and walked over to them.