by James Rosone
“Through the collective work of our intelligence agencies, that third party has been identified as being a member of the Chinese Ministry of State Security. The FBI has uncovered evidence that the Chinese Ministry of State Security was involved in and responsible for the theft of these ballots in a brazen attempt to interfere in our presidential election. The stealing of these ballots incidentally took place in the same states these terrorist attacks were planned to take place in. All of this was orchestrated in an attempt to suppress voter turnout in key districts to sway the election in these states and thus manipulate the electoral college.
“To date, the FBI, working with local election officials, have determined that more than 300,000 votes in five states were intercepted and destroyed before they could be counted. Because we have no way of knowing which individuals’ ballots were stolen, I have consulted with the Department of Justice and the Department of Homeland Security, and we are going to void all absentee and mail-in ballots collected in these states so far. We will require people to either vote using the iVote app, vote in person, or request a polling worker to visit their residence and assist them in using the iVote app.
“Because this will all take time to implement, and because the election is only four days away, we must postpone the election from November third until Monday, January fourth, 2021. I am also declaring January fourth a one-time-only national holiday, to allow people the day off to go vote.
“The integrity of our election is absolutely paramount to ensuring trust in the federal government and our elected officials. When the FBI discovered proof that a foreign power had interfered with our election, I felt it the responsible thing, the right thing, to bring this situation to you—to make sure you, the American people, know that your government is doing everything in its power to ensure the integrity of our elections.
“We will not tolerate a foreign power interfering in our election in an attempt to affect policies to their benefit. With factual evidence of what has transpired, I have directed the Treasury Department to sanction the financial institutions in Europe and Asia that were involved in this conspiracy. They will be cut off from any financial dealings with the United States. I have also directed the Department of Justice to pursue all available criminal charges against the individuals involved.
“I am confident that, win or lose this election, history will look back on our decision to bring this to you, the American people, as the right decision. If I lose the election on January fourth, I will have lost fair and square and not because of foreign interference. It is imperative that people are able to trust the results of the election and not have the stain of foreign interference on whoever wins.
“I want to say a special thanks to the men and women of the FBI, Homeland Security, the Department of Defense, and our intelligence agencies for their hard work in both uncovering this conspiracy before it was too late, and for stopping these terrorists from carrying out another dastardly attack on our great nation. May God bless you all and keep you safe in these troubling times.”
As Duck Dynasty came back on, Dusty shook his head in horror.
Holy cow, I need to drop this load and get out of Florida ASAP, he thought. He couldn’t help but think that he might have gotten caught up in one of the attacks. He stared at the food on his plate. Suddenly, he wasn’t very hungry anymore.
*******
Cleveland, Ohio
Senator Tate’s Election Headquarters
“What the hell are we supposed to do now?” yelled Louis Carter, Senator Tate’s campaign manager. “He postponed the election?” His face was red with anger. The polls had been showing them inching ahead in several swing states just prior to the announcement.
“Damn him!” shouted Senator Marshall Tate. He stood up and let loose a string of obscenities at the now-muted TV and the political pundits who were analyzing the President’s address.
When Tate stopped swearing, Jerome Powell, his longtime Chief of Staff, offered, “We can file an emergency injunction and force the election to be held on Tuesday. If we can get the court to block the delay and the voiding of the absentee and mail-in ballots, we can still move forward with the original election date.”
Senator Tate grumbled, then ordered, “Do it.”
Jerome grabbed for his smartphone and dialed the number for their chief counsel. While he spent the next few moments on the phone with their lawyer, Louis picked up his own cell phone and called the Democratic National Committee Chairman to get the ball rolling on his end. They’d need to move quickly in order to stop the President’s executive order from being implemented before it was too late.
With Jerome and Louis in motion, Marshall turned to one of his senior aides. “Janey, call our friend over at DHS and find out what the hell is going on. Tell him we need his help to slow this down or to do what he can to make sure the election still happens on Tuesday.”
She nodded and immediately got up to walk into the other room to place the call.
Marshall Tate looked at the TV in shock and anger. He was less than four days away from being elected the next President of the United States, and now it all seemed in limbo. The talking heads were droning on about how big a bullet the country had just dodged with the apprehension of these six suicide bombers; another group began blathering about whether or not the President had the authority to postpone the election.
Suddenly, Marshall’s phone buzzed on the table next to him. Looking at the caller ID, he saw it was a New York number. He grabbed the phone. “This is Marshall.”
He sat and listened for a moment as the caller began to feed him information. A smile crept across his face. “This is excellent news,” he said. “Are you sure this won’t get challenged in court?”
Another thirty seconds passed as the caller explained the situation further. Marshall nodded a couple of times. “Is there time for the Supreme Court to hear the case before Tuesday?”
As he heard the answer, Marshall’s smile grew and his spirits rose.
I still may win this thing, he thought.
Pulling the smartphone away from his face, Marshall ended the call feeling much better than he had just five minutes ago. His crack legal team was on it. Less than four hours after the President’s proclamation, they had managed to get a judge from the Sixth Circuit to issue an injunction against the postponing of the election, labeling it unconstitutional and outside the President’s statutory authority.
According to the legal experts, only Congress had the authority to change the date of the election, and his party was firmly in control of the House of Representatives. Marshall took a deep breath, let it out, and allowed himself to drift to sleep in his chair while his team continued their work.
Chapter 15
Supreme Court
November 1, 2020
Washington, D.C.
Chief Justice Mark Lighthouse couldn’t believe what he read in the New York Times as he sat at his kitchen table. It was Saturday morning, and normally he’d enjoy the crossword section of the paper, but not with the headlines he saw splashed across the front page.
Terrorists had nearly carried out six attacks against locations where children were trick-or-treating the night before. Then the President made his bombshell announcement about Chinese interference in the election. When he read about Sachs postponing the election for sixty days, he immediately knew the Department of Justice and the President would get sued and the proclamation would be put on hold.
He shook his head. Article 1, Section 4 of the Constitution clearly stated that Congress had the authority to determine when and how frequently a presidential election was held. The Attorney General should have advised him better on that proclamation, he thought.
Justice Lighthouse had been feeling nauseous and a bit under the weather for the last twenty-four hours. He was hoping he’d feel better by Monday, because he knew all too well the Attorney General would demand they hear the merits of the case either tomorrow or Monday at the latest so they could
rule on the constitutionality of the President’s decree. There was certainly a case to be made with regard to public safety, but unless the Speaker of the House came out in support of the executive order, Lighthouse didn’t think an effective argument could be made for the legality of the election being postponed this way.
Just as he was about to pick up his smartphone to call one of the other justices to see if they should hear the case on Sunday or wait until Monday, he suddenly felt the overwhelming need to vomit.
After retching his guts out for a few minutes in the bathroom, Justice Lighthouse leaned over the sink and splashed some water on his face. He briefly looked at himself in the mirror and was startled by how bad he looked. His skin had several dark marks on it he’d never noticed before. Even his hair looked odd. He ran his hand along his hairline. When he looked down at his hand, there was a small patch of hair in it.
He suddenly felt panicked. Something’s not right, he realized.
Justice Lighthouse walked over to the living room and found his wife.
“Honey, I need you to drive me to the hospital,” he said.
“Oh my gosh, what’s wrong, Mark?” she asked.
“I don’t know, but I just threw up and my hair is falling out.”
She immediately grabbed her purse and took him to the ER at Walter Reed Hospital. When the triage nurse saw his condition, he was rushed to the back, and a doctor saw him almost immediately.
Four hours and a few blood tests later, several doctors talking in the hall seemed stumped by his symptoms. What was clear, though, was that his condition was worsening.
When the other Supreme Court justices started to arrive at Walter Reed with similar symptoms, it became clear they had all been infected with something—but they were in a race against time to figure what it was and how to treat it.
*******
Washington, D.C.
Robert F. Kennedy Building
Department of Justice
“What do you mean the justices are all sick? Did they all come down with the flu at the same time?” shouted Malcolm Wright angrily into the receiver of the phone he was white knuckling.
This is what happens when you have a geriatric ward for a Supreme Court, he thought.
“It’s not a cold or a virus, Malcolm,” retorted Carl Iverson, the Solicitor General.
The AG hated dealing with this poor excuse of a man; he was an arrogant, overly confident jerk who’d lost a couple of high-profile cases before the Supreme Court. Consequently, Carl had fallen out of favor both with the President and with Malcolm.
“If they aren’t sick with the flu, then what the hell is it?” Malcolm demanded.
“They don’t know yet, but it’s serious. They’re showing signs of organ failure.”
“Are they all sick?” the AG asked, now a bit of concern in his voice. Sure, one or two of them could have come down with the flu or some other ailment, but all of them at once—no, that wasn’t a coincidence.
“Yes, all nine justices have been hospitalized at Walter Reed,” replied Carl.
“Well, let me know as soon as you find out what’s wrong with them. We need to get this case settled ASAP, Carl. We can’t sit around and wait for this to make its way through the normal channels,” Malcolm finished, and then he hung up the phone.
Malcolm looked around on his desk for his direct number to the FBI Director. He didn’t find the number he was looking for right away, but he did uncover the business card to his deputy. He quickly dialed the man’s cell number.
It rang a couple of times before he answered. “This is Deputy Director Joseph Latrell speaking.”
“Joe, this is Malcolm over at DOJ. I just got a very disturbing call from the Solicitor General. He’s trying to get the case on this presidential executive order heard by the Supreme Court justices, but he just told me they all suddenly showed up sick at Walter Reed a few hours ago.”
“Wait—just one or two of them, or did you say all of them?” asked Joe.
“You heard right the first time,” Malcolm said. “All of them. Something doesn’t feel right about this. I need you to get a couple of your best agents over to Walter Reed ASAP and find out what the hell is going on. As soon as you know something, get back to me.” Then he hung up the phone.
If the Supreme Court justices were all sick, he needed to figure out what their next steps were in getting this EO reinstated. They only had three days left before the election.
*******
Deputy Director Joe Latrell pulled up to the emergency entrance of the Walter Reed National Military Medical Center exactly twenty minutes after the AG had told him about the Supreme Court justices. He had phoned ahead to his headquarters office telling them he wanted a couple of agents sent over to Walter Reed to meet him there. His next call had been to his boss, the Director, to make sure he was kept in the loop. His boss had told him to find out what was going on and if it appeared that any foul play was happening, to call him before he called the AG or anyone else.
Joe swerved his government-issued vehicle into one of the empty parking spots reserved for law enforcement, quickly locked the door and made his way into the emergency room. As soon as he reached the receptionist, he flashed his FBI credentials. “I need to speak with the managing doctor on duty now,” he said in a tone that meant business.
The receptionist nodded. She picked up a phone and paged the head doctor over the PA. A couple of minutes later, three more FBI agents walked in and quickly headed toward him. Together, they waited for the doctor to arrive.
A man in teal surgical scrubs approached. When he got within a couple of feet, he waved for them to follow him over to an empty office to talk. The five of them filed into the room and then waited as the doctor closed the door.
Turning to face the G-men, he said, “I’m Dr. Patrick Morris. I’m the head doctor on duty for the weekend. I assume you all are here to discuss the Supreme Court justices?”
The agents all nodded.
Nodding, Dr. Morris said, “Chief Justice Mark Lighthouse arrived about five hours ago complaining of vomiting, nausea, and diarrhea. While he said he’d been feeling under the weather for about two days, he felt something really bad must be going on when clumps of his hair began to fall out, so he had his wife drive him here.”
He held up a hand to forestall the barrage of questions he knew he was about to get slammed with. “We’ve been running tests to find out what could be wrong with them. Up to this point, all our tests have come back normal. He’s not sick with the flu, pneumonia, or any sort of exotic illness. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say his symptoms would appear to be radiation sickness, but I don’t see how he could’ve been exposed to any sort of radiation that could cause these types of symptoms.”
Joe thought about that for a moment before asking, “What about the other justices? Do they appear to have the same symptoms?”
Dr. Morris nodded. “Unfortunately, they do.”
One of the agents asked, “Is it possible the justices were poisoned?”
Another agent retorted, “Why would the justices be poisoned? Who would stand to gain from that?”
The doctor then looked at them like an idea had just struck him. “If you’ll excuse me, there’s one other test we haven’t run that might tell us what’s going on.” With that, the doctor left the room and jogged back down the hallway he had come from, leaving the FBI agents unsure of what to say or do next.
After a few awkward moments of silence, Joe motioned for the other agents to follow him over to a nearby vending machine. “Since it looks like we might be here for a little bit, let me at least buy you guys some coffee,” he offered.
One of the agents held up a hand. “No offense, sir, but you’re not buying us vending machine coffee when there’s a Starbucks right over there,” he said.
Two of the other agents snickered. Joe laughed, nodded, and then the four of them walked over to Starbucks to get a drink while they waited for the doctor to come back a
nd tell them what the heck was going on.
Thirty-two minutes later, Dr. Morris walked back over to them with a grim look on his face.
“I take it you found something with this newest test?” inquired Joe as the others looked on.
Nodding, the doctor plopped down in the chair next to them as he ran his right hand through his graying hair. “When you guys mentioned poisoning, it got me thinking about the 2018 poisoning of Sergei and Yulia Skripal in the UK. They, of course, were poisoned with the Novichok nerve agent. None of the justices appear to have any of those symptoms.”
The FBI agents all let out a collective sigh of relief at that proclamation.
Dr. Morris went on to add, “However, in 2006, the Russians poisoned a former spy by the name of Alexander Litvinenko in London. Mr. Litvinenko exhibited symptoms of radiation poisoning, which was later discovered to be induced, acute radiation syndrome related to polonium-210 poisoning. It was the first known case of someone being killed through polonium poisoning.”
Joe Latrell stood up at this point, looking down at the doctor. “Are you saying the judges—are you saying all of the Supreme Court justices have been poisoned with polonium?”
The other agents looked at Joe and then the doctor in a state of shock and disbelief.
“I’m afraid that’s exactly what I’m saying. I’m not sure how it happened, or even when it happened. But it appears all of them have been given enough polonium to be lethal.”
Joe reached out for the edge of the chair, suddenly feeling a little lightheaded. He sat back down before looking at the doctor. “Is there anything that can be done for them?” he asked, barely managing to get the words out.
Dr. Morris shook his head. “I’m afraid not. We might have been able to do something for them the day they were initially poisoned, but it’s far too late for that now. If I had to estimate, I’d say they were probably given the polonium four, maybe five days ago, just based on when the justices said they began to have some symptoms.”
