Presidential Shift - Episode 1
Page 4
Cal shrugged and shook Gaucho’s hand, which turned into a brotherly hug. “As much as I can. You got a minute to talk?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
Cal gave Gaucho the same report he’d given Trent earlier.
“So what’s the plan?” Gaucho asked.
“Neil should have enough to release to the media soon. We’ll see how that goes. As far as the other stuff, I want to make sure you and your boys are ready to jump if I need you.”
“You know us, boss. Always ready.”
Chapter 7
FBI Local Office, Birmingham, Alabama
12:16pm, December 16th
Special Agent Steve Stricklin stepped out of the stuffy interrogation room and cracked his neck. The day was only half over and he was already tired of talking to the tight-lipped agents of the Birmingham office. He knew they were hiding something. It was in the way they looked at him with their smug eyes. It never crossed Stricklin’s mind that maybe they just hated the fact that he was an Internal Affairs officer and a prick to boot.
Stricklin came from a modest upbringing and an above average high school education in Virginia. After college, he’d joined the Marines to see the world and get one step closer to his goal of running for public office. Along the way, he’d become an infantry officer and, in his mind, served honorably and faithfully. Former Marine First Lieutenant Steve Stricklin didn’t stay in touch with any of the Marines he’d served with. He’d had a lofty vision of what an infantry Marine looked like: tall, muscular, square jawed and ready for war. It was what he saw when he looked in the mirror.
What he’d found had left him sickened not only for his country, but more importantly, for his own career. How was he supposed to become a top platoon commander if the Marine Corps gave him dumb farm boys from Arkansas and swamp people from Louisiana?
Two months after reporting to his battalion, Second Lieutenant Stricklin pleaded with his company commander to allow him to pick new men from incoming School of Infantry classes. The captain, a former enlisted Mustang who Stricklin had come to loathe, practically laughed him out of the office.
As was his right, 2nd Lt. Stricklin requested mast with the battalion commander for the way his own company commander, a man who was charged by the Marine Corps to mentor 2nd Lt. Stricklin, had treated him. Steve also wanted to ‘suggest’ to the battalion commander that maybe he be allowed to be re-assigned to another company.
The meeting had not gone as planned. With his company commander and battalion Sergeant Major looking on, the battalion commander had at first politely listened to 2nd Lt. Stricklin’s tale, but had then narrowed his eyes and spoken with utter disdain.
“Who do you think you are, Lieutenant? What gives you the right to come in here and charge Captain Nanko?”
“Sir, I believe it’s my right under the Uniform Code of Military Justice to—.”
“That’s the only reason I sat and listened to your load of crap, Lieutenant.” The word lieutenant came out of the battalion commander’s mouth as if he’d vomited out the vilest piece of food. “Here’s what you’re going to do, Lieutenant. You will officially drop these ridiculous charges of harassment, for which you have no merit, I might add, and get your candy ass back to work.”
“But, sir,” protested Stricklin.
“I’m not finished,” growled the battalion commander. “I’m willing to keep this quiet as long as you shut your mouth and get back to what you were sent to this battalion for, getting your Marines ready for war. I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but we might be going over to the sandbox soon and you sure as shit better have your act together. I’ll tell you something else. I regularly talk to each of my company commanders about their troops. I also talk to my Marines, private on up. I know more than you think. I’ve heard about you, Lieutenant. I know you like to take credit for what your Marines do. I know that you like to place blame on others.”
“Sir, if you would tell me who told you these lies—.”
“I told you to shut your mouth, Lieutenant. And no, I will not tell you who told me. It doesn’t matter. Let’s just say that once the Lance Corporal rumor mill starts up, there isn’t much that can stop it. I’m willing to give you another chance, and so is Captain Nanko, as long as you start learning what it means to be a Marine officer. Despite what you might think, Lieutenant, leading Marines is a privilege, not a right.”
Stricklin stood at attention in absolute shock. How could the battalion commander be so blind? Couldn’t he see that he was being bullied and thrown under the bus?
“So what’s it gonna be, Lieutenant?”
Stricklin hesitated, and then squared his jaw and looked straight ahead. “Sir, I’d like to respectfully request mast with the Commanding General.”
The battalion commander let out a sigh and looked to Capt. Nanko, who nodded sadly.
“That’s your right, Lieutenant. Sergeant Major, please provide Lieutenant Stricklin with the proper paperwork and get the general on the line for me.”
The same thing had happened with the Commanding General. Stricklin still didn’t understand. They’d all been against him. In the end, he’d landed in the battalion’s S-3 (operations) shop where his daily routine was consumed with inspections of the battalion armory, barracks and offices. Surprisingly, he’d enjoyed the duty and took each and every detailed inspection seriously. He’d busted no fewer than fifteen Marines who were secretly drinking under age in the barracks. Over the strong objections of the Marines’ platoon commanders, his own naïve peers, the battalion commander had reluctantly disciplined the minors. Instead of being praised for his hard work in the successful raid, 2nd Lt. Stricklin was reassigned to the armory, permanently.
He served out his time with relative ease, despite having to go off to war with the battalion.
The entire episode had shown Steve Stricklin that he was the only person who could and would determine his fate. With a glowing recommendation from a supply major he’d met in Saudi Arabia, Stricklin applied and was accepted to the FBI Academy. At the time, the FBI was looking for as many service members with practical experience as it could find. Although he didn’t get assigned to a field office as an investigating agent as he’d originally wanted, his appointment to Internal Affairs came with certain perks. He was allowed to make his own day for the most part, and whenever he visited a field office, he was given a wide berth. Steve liked the feeling of power that it gave him.
After grabbing a soda from the staff lounge, he headed to his temporary office, a small but tidy corner office that gave him the privacy he liked. Logging in to his email, he scanned the various compartmental messages. An email from his supervisor sat waiting. Steve clicked on it.
The message contained one of his department’s weekly updates that kept the entire IA team informed about ongoing investigations. Nothing peaked his interest until the update labeled FLOTUS ORANGE BEACH, ALABAMA. FLOTUS was the acronym used to describe the first lady of the United States. Just like the rest of Americans, Steve had heard about the attack on the first lady and the death of the vice president. The memo outlined the first lady’s itinerary in Orange Beach and then asked for two volunteers to augment the investigators doing local checks prior to the first lady’s appearance starting the next day. Orange Beach wasn’t far from Birmingham.
Steve was surprised that the first lady was already coming out in public. Curious, he clicked on the link that took him to a secure web page where he could see if anyone had volunteered yet. There was one name. He didn’t recognize the agent. His interviews in Birmingham could be finished the same day if Stricklin kept the Birmingham staff at the office until he was done, which would probably be well past midnight. They couldn’t complain. It was his call to make. Even the special agent in charge of the division had to listen.
Smiling, Steve entered his name to volunteer for the temporary duty in Orange Beach. He could be there by morning.
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“Is everything in place?”
&nbs
p; “Yes.”
“I don’t want any mistakes this time.”
“There won’t be.”
“Good. Call me when you get to Orange Beach.”
Continued in Episode 2…
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