[Jack Emery 01.0] The Foundation

by Steve P Vincent

  He looked to Andrei and Erik again. “Fine. So what do you want?”

  She stood up and walked over to the drinks cabinet. She browsed the labels before settling on the Bombay Sapphire. She turned over two glasses and poured. “Are you aware of the danger America faces today, Ernest?”

  He didn’t reply.

  She dropped a couple of ice cubes into each glass. “Of course you are. Your papers got good mileage out of hundreds of our boys coming home from Afghanistan in pieces last year.”

  She poured the tonic, then carried both glasses over and handed him one, which he put on his bedside table. “I’m here to help ensure the elimination of the greatest threat to America since the terrorists we’ve battled for the last decade: weakness and complacency. Congress is deadlocked by the two parties fighting to be the most petty. Our financial might is in ruins. Our military is weary. Our freedoms are curbed more each year. This complacency, this weakness will lead to our destruction.”

  McDowell snorted, his skepticism plain on his face. “Forgive me, but this is all sounding a little Tom Clancy to me. I just run newspapers.”

  “Don’t be a fool, Ernest. The media in this country is the hinge that great change turns on. It decides whether a president is free to act in America’s interests. It shapes opinions. It changes governments and fortunes. Companies like yours remodel the world.”

  “They sure do.” McDowell yawned. “You should get one of your own.”

  Michelle smiled, but didn’t rise to his bait. “Today the front lines are newspapers and blogs, Twitter feeds and Facebook posts, television stations and talk-back radio. And this space is populated by sheep, but led by only a few, including you. My organization seeks to harness these assets for a greater good: making America great again.”

  McDowell raised an eyebrow. “Nice theory. And who exactly do you work for?”

  “The Foundation for a New America.” Michelle left it at that. McDowell didn’t need to know about her difficulties with Anton.

  “Okay. And what’re you trying to achieve with this little monologue?”

  “Rebirth.”

  He snorted. “You could just get a good man, a good bottle of red, wait nine months and you’d have your birth, miss.”

  “Smart. Rebirth for America. Whenever it has grown stale, America has always rejuvenated itself through war: the War of Independence, and the birth of modern America; the Civil War, and the forging of an American social identity; the Spanish–American War, and the arrival of the United States on the world stage; World Wars One and Two, and America becoming a global power; the Cold War, and America becoming the Superpower.”

  McDowell seemed to consider her statement carefully. “Your thesis has problems. What about Nicaragua, Lebanon, Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan? Wars that the US has fought, and lost. Or at least not won.”

  He was done with batting away her statements with bluster and derision, and was now engaging in the contest of ideas. She knew she had his interest. “Tactical missteps. America has thrived from big conflict, from the contest of big nations and big ideas.”

  “So what exactly are you suggesting, Ms Dominique? What’s your end game?”

  This was her chance. If Michelle was going to enlist McDowell and his company to her cause, she had to hit him between the eyes. It was the key to shifting the balance against Anton and ultimately prying power from him, while still keeping the Foundation intact enough to make its—her— run for Congressional control.

  “War between the United States and the People’s Republic of China.” She smiled sweetly. “Then, the rejuvenation of America through dozens of my colleagues and me in Congress, able to fix the problems.”

  “Ah.” He laughed. “Republicans? Can’t beat the Democrats fairly the last few times around, so you look for the wacky way to do it? Usually I sympathize with your side of politics, miss, but I am increasingly daunted by their level of crazy.”

  “No, we’re not Republicans, though we do hide ourselves among them for now. They loathe our message, and are equally responsible for this mess. No, Congress requires a new force.”

  “You’re nuts.” He shook his head. “Isn’t there a chance that America will lose this theoretical war of yours?”

  Michelle shrugged. “Empires on the wrong side of great conflicts have fallen, but America has yet to fail. What’s worse? To try and fail, or to never try and be overtaken?”

  “Well, whatever. But keep me out of it.”

  “History is on my side, Ernest. Unfortunately, technology is on yours. While the reality of America’s need for war hasn’t changed, the means for fighting those wars has. I’ve already explained how the media fits in. I’m interested in how far you’re willing to go to help stamp out these problems.”

  “Not an inch.”

  Michelle sighed and signaled to Erik, who drew an envelope out of his jacket pocket and walked over to hand it to McDowell. He looked at it in confusion. “What’s this?”

  “This is the means for you to destroy the good Senator Mahoney. The whole nasty business of the Senate committee will just go away. If you make the right choice, it’s also the way to create a greater future for your family and all Americans. The right future. The future I decide.”

  “And the cost?”

  She rolled the dice. “Print what we tell you to, just every now and then. It will help us to stoke the right flames, and to get my colleagues and me the public support we need. Things will be fine. It won’t be difficult, given what the public expects of news. Surely that’s a better option than letting them ruin you and dismantle your company.”

  She waited and continued to sip her drink as McDowell weighed up his options. The bait in front of him must be impossibly tempting—exactly as she’d designed. She knew that with McDowell and his organization on her side, the war was nearly guaranteed, her power base against Anton would expand and the Congressional run of Michelle and the other Foundation-aligned candidates was much more likely to succeed.

  “I don’t see the link?”

  “We create an incident, you stoke the flames, war erupts, public dissatisfied with response of President Kurzon and both major parties and clamor for change.” She sighed. “You’re our ticket to the party, Ernest, and I’m your ticket to destroying your enemies and keeping your company. It really is the perfect scenario.”

  McDowell stared at her, then placed the unopened envelope on the bed. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time breaking into my suite. I don’t like being at the mercy of anyone, but given the choice, I’ll try my hand with the government. At least I can see them coming. Unlike you and your friends here.”

  Michelle shook her head and put her empty glass on the table. She’d known that this was a strong possibility, but had hoped he’d take the easy route. “How unfortunate. I hope you don’t come to regret this decision, Ernest.”

  Ernest was seated at a table in the Senate inquiry hearing room. In front of him was the bench from where the eleven senators would judge his fate, while behind him, the public gallery was full to bursting. He’d been offended by their stares and glared back until the EMCorp Director of Legal Affairs, Saul Alweiss, had discreetly told him that stink-eyeing the public wouldn’t look great on CSPAN.

  As he tapped his foot and worked his way through the day’s third coffee, Ernest hated to admit that Saul was right. The wrong look and his testimony would get wall-to-wall coverage on television and in print. He didn’t relish the thought. Since Saul’s quiet word he’d simply stared straight ahead, sipped his coffee and showed no emotion. He couldn’t help the leg shake that he’d inherited from his father.

  He thought back to the invasion of his hotel room earlier that morning. While he’d initially written Michelle Dominique off as a nut, he’d done some digging. There was more to her than met the eye, including a Congressional tilt in the coming midterm elections. She clearly had some crackpot theories, so even if she could get him out of his current mire, it wouldn’t be worth the cost.
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br />   “Will they get on with it any time soon?”

  Alweiss smiled and leaned forward. “Usually takes them a while to get going.”

  “It’s ten am. Don’t these bastards do any work?” Ernest kept his voice down. “I’m usually well into my day by now.”

  While Saul had handed the first part of the hearing, Ernest was glad his time to speak had arrived. The Senate Judiciary Subcommittee on Privacy, Technology and the Law had oversight of laws and policies governing collection of information by the private sector and enforcement of privacy laws. Because of the activities of EMCorp, Ernest was squarely in their sights. Part of him was terrified about what the hearings would bring.

  Alweiss placed a hand on his knee. “Keep your cool, Ernest. Everything hinges on that.”

  Ernest laid his palms down flat on the wooden table as the senators walked in to the room. Last to enter was Senator Mahoney, Chairman of the Subcommittee, who took his seat on the middle of the bench. As the senators settled in, Mahoney stared straight at Ernest with a large, shit-eating grin on his face. Ernest was sad that he was too old to leap the table and stab the bastard with a pen.

  After a few moments of quiet chatter between the senators, Mahoney cleared his throat. His microphone carried the sound across the room well enough that most people seemed to get the point. Chatter stopped and people readied themselves for the showdown. Ernest stopped shaking his foot, put down his coffee and sat up straight in his chair. He stared at Mahoney, who started to speak.

  “Good morning, everybody. I call to order the third day of the inquiry into the conduct of EMCorp within the borders of the United States.” Mahoney paused, apparently for dramatic effect. “Mr McDowell, thanks for joining us this morning.”

  “And a good afternoon to you, too.” Ernest managed to draw a few short laughs from the gallery. “Glad to be of service to the duly elected representatives of our fine democracy.”

  Mahoney bristled, but continued. “As you know, EMCorp, the company you chair and have a large holding in, has been embroiled in significant controversy overseas, most notably the United Kingdom. The opening two days of this inquiry heard a catalog of allegations. Our role is to determine the extent of misconduct in the US.”

  Ernest waited until Mahoney was done, then lifted his coffee cup and drained the contents. He looked to each of the eleven members of the committee in turn then spoke. “Nice editorial, Senator. Give me a call once you’re out of politics.”

  Mahoney laughed. “I’ll take the first question, Mr McDowell. Quite simply, can you guarantee EMCorp hasn’t engaged in illegal behavior of the kind that we’ve seen overseas inside the United States, beyond what has already been declared?”

  Ernest looked to Alweiss, who took the question. “No corporate leader could offer such a guarantee, Senator. But we’re confident that, beyond what we’ve already disclosed to the authorities and to the markets, no further activity along those lines has occurred in the United States. The company has performed a full audit.”

  Mahoney tapped his pen on the bench, seemingly annoyed that Alweiss had answered the question. “While I thank your lawyer for his response, Mr McDowell, it’s apparent to many people, myself included, that the level of control that your company has over the political and economic direction of this nation is far too high—”

  Ernest tried to interrupt. “Sorry, Senator.”

  Mahoney persisted. “I was speaking, Mr McDowell. I’d actually liken it to a man, even a large one, being crushed to death by a snake. The man is this country, your company is the snake. Though the man might be strong, he has nothing to compete with the constricting strength of the snake, ever tighter.”

  Ernest knew he was in trouble. This was about more than potential illegal activities—it was a power play. Mahoney was playing for keeps, and despite his looming retirement, he had the power base in Washington to have a chance in the game. This was going to be the biggest fight of his professional life.

  With Mahoney finished, another senator leaned in to her microphone. “Mr McDowell, do you have anything to say from the outset?”

  “Yes, I do, actually, miss.” Ernest paused and looked at the senator’s name plate. “Sorry, Senator Woodyatt. Yes, I do.”

  When the senator nodded for him to proceed, Ernest looked at Alweiss, who shook his head only a fraction. Ernest ignored it. “I find substantial levels of media ownership to be wholly compatible with the entrepreneurial spirit of this country. I started this company and it’s now a global enterprise employing thousands of Americans.

  “Regardless of troubles elsewhere, I’d hoped that at home, at least, EMCorp would be welcome, yet here I sit. It’s a sad day indeed when such a committee can begin a witch hunt in such a manner. So let’s get on with it.”

  Ernest sat back in his chair. Alweiss had a blank look on his face and was probably considering the weaseling he’d have to do to reverse the damage of the statement. Mahoney had an even bigger grin on his face, but the other senators seemed unconcerned. The CSPAN cameras were on Ernest and several cameras flashed.

  He knew that this was going to end badly and that the committee had the power to orchestrate sweeping changes to his company. He’d seen off the EMCorp board only to run headlong into this mess. He wondered again about Michelle Dominique and her offer, before shaking his head and readying himself for the next question.

  Michelle’s boots clicked on the red bricks as she walked to the dining hall at a brisk pace. She’d spent the afternoon doing one of her occasional lectures at Georgetown University, but a flurry of student questions had made her late for a coffee date. She hated being late. The lectures were just part of the façade of legitimacy that all of the senior staff at the Foundation had to have, but they also helped with her campaign.

  She looked back over her shoulder and smiled at the sight of Andrei Shadd. Though he kept a respectable distance, she had no doubt that she was well protected. Given the likelihood of a second attempt on her life by Anton, she’d made a habit of having one of the Czech brothers in tow whenever she was out. The brothers were part of the dark work that the Foundation did. There was a cell in each major US state and some foreign countries, each responsible for agitation, low-level terrorism and whatever else needed doing. Beyond that, there was an investment branch that sponsored overseas subversives, and a wet squad of ex-special forces guys. The light side was a think tank, well funded and politically hyperactive. It was involved in everything from presidential campaigns to policy advocacy and research. It looked and acted every bit the legitimate organization. It also carried a lot of punch in Washington.

  As she neared the door of the Leo J. O’Donovan Dining Hall, she rubbed her hands together, trying to coax some warmth back into them. She took out her cell phone, and fired off a quick text to Andrei. I’ll need some privacy, Andrei. No interruptions unless someone hits the big red button. A glance was all it took to see he understood. She entered the hall.

  The room was abuzz with the evening undergrad rush, each seeking a slice of pizza or equally dismal fare. The tables were full with groups of students eating or doing work on their laptops. There was very little spare space, and Michelle was worried that she’d missed her appointment. She paused and looked around, then nearly jumped into the air when someone placed a hand on her shoulder.

  “Sorry.” Sarah McDowell flashed her white teeth and held out a cup. The dimples on her cheeks were pronounced and she was pleased with herself. “Couldn’t resist.”

  Michelle took the coffee from Sarah with a smile and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. “Hey, Sarah, how’s it going?”

  Sarah turned and nodded back toward the door. “Alright. Thought I’d get us some takeaways. It’s crazy in here.”

  Michelle nodded. “Hey, tough break for your dad today.”

  The younger woman frowned, and Michelle realized she’d need to be careful. Even though Sarah McDowell seemingly took very little interest in the professional affairs of her father and his
business empire, she was still a loving and loyal daughter. Michelle risked poisoning the well of opportunity with misplaced words.

  “They didn’t give him a chance.” Sarah pushed the door open and Michelle followed her outside. “He’s going to get crucified.”

  Michelle glanced toward Andrei, who’d had the foresight to sit well away from the dining hall. “How many days of questioning does he have?”

  Sarah brushed her blond hair behind her head. “At least a couple, his assistant tells me. Peter isn’t usually wrong.”

  They walked together in silence for a few moments, past the law building and toward the center of the Georgetown campus. While parts of her plan were ticking along nicely, her efforts to recruit McDowell to her cause had been a massive failure. For now, at least. The inquiry had been hotter than she’d expected, so she retained some hope.

  Sarah broke the silence. “How was your lecture?”

  “It was alright. First time I’ve spoken on terrorism since my PhD, so I think I was a bit rusty. But they had an appetite for it, given everything that’s happening in China.”

  Sarah nodded and frowned. “What was the gist of it?”

  “Outrage about the attacks in China on one hand, the need for us to stand beside Taiwan and renew our focus on the threat of terrorism on the other. My political advisors thought it would be a good idea to get some talking points on the record.”

  “Dad lost some staff over there. You must have heard.”

  Michelle feigned surprise. Since meeting Sarah at a gallery opening, she’d gone to huge effort to avoid expressing much knowledge of EMCorp. Sarah knew only that she was a conservative, and involved in politics. Sarah was studying art, and they’d become decent enough friends.