We Have Lost The President

by Paul Mathews

  Then Howie remembered. Oskar was at a two-day defence summit in Paris. It was probably a blessing. Meetings ran more smoothly when he wasn’t around.

  Martha Blake stood up and addressed the room. ‘Welcome everyone. Thank you for attending this Code Red crisis meeting at such short notice. For those who don’t know me, my name is Martha Blake, and I’m head of the National Security and Intelligence Service.’

  Those who knew Martha were already exchanging worried glances. Her appearance at meetings was never good news for the politicians.

  ‘Apologies for the secrecy on the bleeper, but you had to hear this in the most secure way possible. And that, as always, is face-to-face.’ She gestured to a stony-faced man, sat on her left. ‘This is the head of Palace security, Bogdan Bogdanowic.’

  Bogdan greeted the table with a grunt. Howie knew him well. Getting the facts out of him was about as easy as extracting sharks’ teeth.

  ‘And, of course, you all know Howie Pond – the president’s official spokesperson, head of comms and number-one communications expert.’

  Howie nodded in acknowledgement. Then he quickly added a ‘Good morning’ and a smile, to emphasise his communication credentials. Nobody responded.

  ‘So why are we all here?’ asked Martha. ‘There’s no easy way to say this. So I’ll just go ahead and say it.’ She took a deep breath. ‘We have lost the president.’

  A chatter of concern went around the table. Martha allowed the room to settle and then continued. ‘No one has seen or heard from him since eleven o’clock last night, when he finished work in his office in the palace and headed towards his private rooms. We currently have very little intelligence. But I’m working on that.’

  Some poor soul, in a secret basement somewhere, is trying to make sense of this mess, thought Howie. Rather them than me.

  ‘And there was a problem with the security cameras,’ continued Martha. ‘Bogdan has more details.’

  Martha sat down. Then Bogdan stood up, with the frightened expression you’d expect from a man whose team had just lost a president. He reluctantly delivered his report in a deadpan voice. ‘Security cameras in palace malfunction at 11.00pm last night. All two hundred and fifty. CAMS – Central Automated Monitoring System – should alert security team. But didn’t.’

  Howie had briefed the media on CAMS last year, after the multi-million-pound contract was leaked to the Daily Democrat newspaper. ‘It’s a small price to pay for guaranteeing the president’s security,’ Howie had explained. He hoped the words wouldn’t come back to bite him on the backside.

  Bogdan loosened his tie. ‘CAMS is hundred per cent automated. Physical checks did not reveal problem until 5.00am today.’ He tightened his tie. ‘During six-hour window, president disappear. My security officers see and hear nothing.’ Then he gripped his tie, as if hanging on for dear life.

  It was time for Howie to do a bit of digging. ‘So what were your security team doing between eleven and five, Bogdan? It’s the first question the media will ask.’

  Bogdan didn’t look at Howie. ‘They were in palace. At strategic locations.’

  ‘But no one was outside his bedroom?’ asked Howie. ‘Because that’ll be the media’s second question.’

  Bogdan kept staring straight ahead. ‘No. CAMS is designed to stop anyone getting that far. But my team search president’s bedroom and other rooms. And gardens.’ He turned and stared at Howie. ‘And to answer media’s third question – so far, we find nothing.’ He sat down, tugging at his collar, as if it was a noose around his neck.

  The vice president for homeland security, Daisy Gray, jumped from her seat. ‘It’s Independence Day on Thursday!’ she shouted. ‘Jan needs to be here. He’s got to be here. So he can announce he’s standing for president again. It’s in the constitution.’ She took a gulp of air. ‘What do we tell the citizens? And the Americans? They love him. They don’t want anyone else running the country. It’ll be chaos. Oh my God, there’ll be another revolution!’

  Martha intervened before Daisy could take another breath. ‘We’ll discuss external communications shortly. Until then, as Jan would say, let’s keep calm and carry on.’

  Excellent advice. Keep calm and carry on – the president’s campaign slogan. One that had helped him sweep to power in 2034, after the collapse of the online world. And helped him gain re-election five years later, when there wasn’t even a crisis to keep calm about. But Daisy was right – if Jan Polak wasn’t here at eleven o’clock on Thursday morning to announce he’d be running for a third term, as everyone expected, one of the vice presidents would be taking his place. On second thoughts, blind panic did seem a perfectly rational response.

  Daisy was trembling with fear. ‘Stay calm? How the bloody hell can we stay calm?! Jan’s our shining light. Our golden boy. Our election-winning machine.’ She looked round the table at her colleagues for moral support. There wasn’t any. Maybe they were already thinking what Howie was thinking. With no Jan Polak, one of them would have to run for president. After ten seconds of silence, Daisy sat down, muttering to herself.

  Martha tried not to sound concerned. ‘We keep calm and, above all else, we keep this Code Red confidential. The more people who know, the more chance the news will leak out. And for that reason, I’m not informing, or involving, the police at this stage.’

  Howie breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t like informing, or involving, the police at any stage. They leaked like a church roof in a monsoon.

  Daisy sprang up again, like a crazed jack-in-the-box. ‘That’s insane! If the president doesn’t turn up here, the police are our only hope of finding him. They’re the eyes and ears of London. We have to tell them. I’m vice president for homeland security. I’ve got a duty to tell them.’

  Martha deployed her best diplomatic voice. ‘Vice President Gray, I understand your concern. But there is nothing in the constitution that requires you to do that.’

  ‘Okay, it’s not in the constitution,’ blurted Daisy. ‘But I have professional relationships to maintain. Don’t they count for anything?’

  Martha was firmer this time. ‘Not when the president goes missing.’

  Daisy thought for a second. ‘I know. We’ll compromise. I’m meeting the chief of police for dinner at The Savoy at eight o’clock tonight. Freddie is discreet. He won’t breathe a word to anyone. He could help us.’

  Howie looked at Martha. He could tell this conversation was straining even her powers of diplomacy.

  ‘If and when the time comes to inform the police, I shall do it,’ declared Martha. ‘Until then, I would suggest everyone keeps contact with the police to an absolute minimum. Including dinner with the chief of police at The Savoy.’

  Daisy sank back into her box without another word. Martha turned to Ivan Bonn. ‘Now, Ivan, you’re looking into why the cameras failed.’

  Ivan jolted upright, as if suddenly woken from a nightmare. ‘What? Oh, yes. Camera failure. Looking into it. Not personally. Don’t do actual Tech. My team does. Well, they did. They all left on Friday.’

  Martha sighed. ‘So no one is working on it?’

  ‘Not a human. An auto-tech. He’s on it. Diagnosing what happened. System failure or system hack. He’s salvaging data. Recent records.’

  Martha grimaced. ‘An auto-tech?’

  ‘Yes. Name’s Brian. Helpful little chap.’

  There was a helpful auto-tech? That was news to Howie. It must be a new model. Either that or something had gone wrong with its programming.

  ‘Seems a bit of a coincidence – the Tech team disappearing, then this happening,’ bellowed a grey suit from the end of the table.

  ‘America pays better,’ explained Ivan. ‘They got Tech. Internet. Mobiles. Laptops. Billion-dollar budgets. We don’t.’

  ‘Maybe the president went with them?’ muttered a different grey suit.

  Martha gritted her teeth. ‘I believe the Americans already have a president. So that vacancy is already filled. Now, if we could
just focus —’

  ‘Could he have been kidnapped?’ interrupted a dark grey suit. ‘Or assassinated?’

  She waved her hands. ‘Please. It is pointless speculating until the search of the palace is complete and we know what happened with the security cameras.’

  ‘Could he really be dead?’ shouted the darkest grey suit in the room.

  Martha raised her voice. ‘We haven’t found a body. So we must assume he’s alive. Unless anyone here knows any different?’

  The room went quiet.

  Martha turned her gaze towards Howie. ‘Now, our comms guru will advise on what you should, or shouldn’t, be saying to the media and everyone else about this.’

  Before Howie could leave his seat, Bogdan stood up and spoke. ‘Can I leave? I not deal with media. Need to get back to my team.’

  Martha nodded. ‘Of course. Bleep me if you find anything.’

  Bogdan headed for the nearest exit. As Howie watched him leave the room, he wondered if they’d heard the full story. Time would tell.

  Howie stood up. The vice presidents started to talk amongst themselves. He coughed to get the room’s attention. It didn’t have any effect. He clapped his hands together and shouted ‘Okay, ladies and gents.’ Still no response. He tried waiting for them to settle. Even more conversations started.

  ‘Vice presidents!’ shouted Martha. The room instantly fell silent. ‘Howie is going to talk to you. So please, listen.’

  Howie began his presentation. ‘Don’t worry, this won’t take too long.’ The vice presidents were like bleepers. They could only handle small packets of information. Otherwise they overloaded and malfunctioned. ‘It’s very simple. If someone asks you where the president is – staff, journalists, external contacts, whoever – you say nothing. You send journalists to me, and non-media to Kaia-Liisa in the president’s private office. But you, vice presidents, should make no comment at all.’

  Howie paused, anticipating the usual interruption from someone who thought they knew better than he did. It didn’t come. That was odd. Maybe the vice presidents were finally trusting his judgement? Highly unlikely. But not impossible. He continued. ‘Let’s be clear. If the media get hold of this story, there will be public hysteria. It’ll be worse than Net Loss Day. We can’t afford to let that happen. Not with Independence Day just two days away. And that is why you say nothing.’

  The vice presidents sat staring at him, with open mouths and expressions of wonder. It seemed like he was getting through to them. After ten years of trying, his advice was finally being listened to and accepted, without complaint or criticism. It was a strange feeling. A pleasant feeling. He congratulated himself and decided to move on to a different matter, before they changed their minds. ‘One more thing. The president has media interviews scheduled today. We can cancel the Republican-supporting media, no problem – they won’t kick up a fuss. But not the Daily Democrat. Their editor gets very upset if we agree to something then pull out at the last minute. And we don’t want them giving us a hard time in such a sensitive week.’ He looked around the room. ‘So if we can’t give them Jan, we’ll have to offer them someone else to interview.’

  Daisy stood up and grinned. ‘I don’t think that’ll be a problem.’

  Howie couldn’t believe it. ‘That’s good to know, Daisy. Thanks.’ He’d never known cooperation like it from this lot. He half-wondered if they’d been smoking something illegal.

  The room started to applaud. It was extraordinary. He didn’t know what to do. So he bowed and enjoyed the moment. ‘Thank you, ladies and gents.’

  Daisy ran towards him, arms outstretched and shouted ‘Mr President!’

  The vice presidents had called Howie a lot of things over the years. Mainly behind his back. Sometimes to his face. But he’d never been called ‘Mr President’ before. Whatever Daisy had been smoking, it was strong stuff. He braced himself for a bear hug. But he didn’t get one.

  Daisy ran past him. ‘We’re saved!’ she shouted. ‘I knew you’d be back. Long live the president!’

  Howie looked behind. There were three men. Two male vice presidents, whose names always escaped him, either side of a man who looked very much like the president, wearing his trademark royal-blue suit and black leather shoes.

  Daisy threw her arms around the new arrival and started sobbing with joy. A granite suit cheered. A charcoal suit whooped. Even more applause. Howie stood there, feeling like a man who’d arrived at the wrong office party.

  Martha stood up. ‘You had us all worried, Jan.’

  ‘Sorry to disappoint you,’ the man replied. ‘But I’m not Jan. I’m Oskar.’

  The applause stopped – as if the boss had just knocked on the door and told everyone to get back to work.

  Daisy unwound herself from Oskar. She stepped back and examined him. ‘Are you sure you’re not Jan? You’re wearing his suit.’

  ‘I am Oskar and these are my clothes,’ sneered the man. ‘One is allowed to make the same purchases as one’s brother.’

  This was definitely Oskar. His lack of charm was unmistakeable. Daisy mumbled an apology and retreated to her seat, shoulders hunched like a scolded cat.

  Martha turned to Oskar. ‘I was informed by your private office that you were still in Paris today – at the defence summit.’

  ‘I flew home after Monday’s business was concluded. Today is just a talking shop.’ Oskar gestured to his two colleagues to find him a chair, which they did without speaking. ‘I forgot to turn my bleeper on this morning. That’s why I’m late.’

  The first meeting you’ve ever been late for, thought Howie.

  Oskar’s two companions brought him a chair and stood one on each side, like Roman bodyguards. Oskar settled into his seat and turned to Howie. ‘Now why can’t my brother do his media interviews? Because I’m certainly not doing them.’

  Martha clasped her hands. ‘We have a problem, Vice President Polak.’

  ‘Why do you people always present me with problems and not solutions?’ asked Oskar, in a weary tone.

  Martha was used to dealing with Oskar, so didn’t take offence. ‘This isn’t just any old problem. Your brother disappeared overnight. We have no idea where he is, why he’s gone or when he’ll be back. We’ve got security searching the palace. But nothing’s turned up yet.’ She paused, waiting for a reaction from Oskar. There wasn’t one. ‘That is why the president can’t undertake interviews, or anything else in his diary, until we find him.’

  Oskar yawned. ‘Is that it?’

  Martha nodded. Everyone waited. Oskar looked around the table and smiled to himself. After a few more seconds of silence, he turned back to Martha and spoke. ‘So, my brother disappears for a few hours, and the Republic is thrown into crisis?’ He laughed in that dry, humourless way that always annoyed Howie. ‘We’re like some sort of ancient civilisation that can’t function without its great leader. I’m sure even emperors and pharaohs had the occasional day off.’

  ‘They didn’t have national newspapers to worry about,’ replied Howie.

  ‘We worry too much about newspapers. It’s not newspapers who’ll vote for the next president, is it? It’s the citizens.’

  ‘Citizens read newspapers.’

  ‘Yes, Mr Pond, but how many?’

  ‘About seventy-five per cent, now there’s no internet. Print media is king now.’

  ‘We’re not a monarchy any more,’ scoffed Oskar.

  Howie knew he mustn’t lose his cool. Only vice presidents were allowed to do that in meetings. ‘We can’t just ignore the media.’

  ‘Then you deal with them,’ snapped Oskar. ‘That’s what you’re paid to do. And I’ll do what I’m paid to do. And that’s deal with matters of state.’

  Howie wanted to carry on the argument, but it would be pointless. Oskar wasn’t going to back down in front of the other vice presidents.

  ‘So what are you saying about your brother’s disappearance, Oskar?’ asked Martha. ‘That it’s nothing to worry abou
t?’

  Oskar leaned back in his seat. ‘When we were boys, he would disappear for hours. Sometimes he would tell our mother where he was going. Sometimes he wouldn’t. He just left.’ He thought for a second. ‘I remember he once got as far as Warsaw after jumping on a train. He even tried to fly to Australia, using our father’s passport.’

  With Oskar as a twin brother, it was understandable Jan might have wanted a bit of space. And the other side of the world didn’t sound unreasonable.

  ‘So you think he’ll show up soon?’ enquired Martha, not sounding convinced.

  ‘Jan always did come back.’ Oskar looked at his watch. ‘Eventually.’

  Martha’s tone was becoming more urgent. ‘But you have no idea where your brother might be now?’

  ‘None whatsoever. We may be twins. But we’re not telepathic.’

  Howie joined in again. ‘He’s got to be somewhere.’

  Oskar stood up. ‘Yes. And I’m sorry, but I’ve got to be somewhere, too. So I shall leave all of this to you competent people.’ His two companions moved his chair back to allow him to leave.

  ‘Could it possibly wait?’ asked Martha, in a polite but firm tone. It was one that anyone else would have responded to by sitting down, shutting up and apologising for their rudeness. But not Oskar.

  The president’s twin brother looked down his nose. ‘It’s a matter of state.’

  ‘Very well. But be aware – this is Code Red confidential. We are not informing, or involving, the police. This is just the domain of the National Security and Intelligence Service for now.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ Oskar replied, as if confirming how much milk he wanted in his tea.

  ‘I shall bleep you if there are any developments.’

  ‘You do that.’

  ‘You definitely can’t do the Daily Democrat interview at five o’clock?’ asked Howie.

  ‘Certainly not! Firstly, my diary is full. And secondly, in my opinion, I think you should cancel all Jan’s interviews. Especially the Daily Democrat. They can go to hell, as far as I’m concerned.’