by Martha Carr
She blinked hard and kept talking, getting around to what George Clemente wanted to hear.
“With our union, we created the possibility of a new way of doing business. A new way to bring two powerful sides together to form one unified party.”
Richard Bach sat up straighter, a scowl on his face. He looked ready to leap up and cut her off if necessary. Wallis chose her next words very carefully.
“There are distinct advantages to working together, asking for help. Resources are pooled, weaknesses are shored, talent is sourced to the right locations. And those who are used to leading can do so more easily without having to also protect their flank and look over their shoulder. In our past, there’s even been the question of who’s a friend and who’s the enemy. But it’s possible that we can create a world where there is no more flank. There is no more battle. We can go back to the original intent. Back to the vision of William Reitling. We create a middle class utopia and we allow in all those willing to do the work, once more.” Wallis beat the lectern with her fist with the last sentence, raising her voice and leaning out toward the crowd.
The audience jumped to their feet, applauding loudly. Wallis moved to the side of the podium and put out her arm, trying to shout over the noise, “We are all in this together.”
She waved her arms, motioning for everyone to sit down again. “In order for us to create this world…” She paused and looked around the room, taking a deep breath, “We will have to come together with our Circle brethren.”
The mood of the room instantly changed as someone started stomping their feet and others joined in, till there was a loud, rumbling boom rattling the ballroom. Wallis raised her arm, patiently waiting for everyone to calm down. The same elderly man in the front row raised his arm with her and the stomping ended. Wallis wondered who he was.
“Not till Fred Bowers is dead in in the ground,” someone shouted from the middle of the pack. Lois saw Julia looking around nervously.
“I’ll settle for just dead,” someone else yelled. The crowd laughed and cheered sending a chill through Wallis. Things were starting to get out of hand. Wallis looked at all of the cell phones still in the air and felt the panic creeping in to her voice as she tried to be heard over the noise.
Please don’t hurt Norman, she thought, swallowing hard.
She watched the same elderly man as he stood up and faced the crowd, giving them a stony, cold silent stare. He walked over to Wallis and said in a low voice, “I knew your father. One of my oldest friends,” as he patted her hand and gave her a wink. It was just like something her father would have done. These people are a lot like us, she thought, surprising herself.
The low murmur ceased and everyone sat quietly. Wallis felt her heart pounding as she tried to still appear calm.
He turned to Wallis. “You have the floor,” he said, and sat back down.
“There will always be a reason to hate,” she said, a slight strain in her voice. “There will always be a reason to divide. And that path will always lead to more death and more loss. At some point, we have to decide if we want revenge for what was, or want peace for what’s to come. I want peace.”
There was the beginning of applause from the older members in the front row followed by a slow build from the rest of the room. Management rank and file may be reluctant but the leaders were making them fall in line.
Everyone must be tired of this feud, thought Wallis. Or they want to find a way to shut down the Circle by absorbing the pieces. Wallis was surprised at the thread of anger she felt at the thought of someone trying to dismantle the Circle. Dismantle it violently, if necessary.
Still, Wallis gave a nod to the man in the front row and made a mental note to ask Esther or Harriet later who he was and if he could be useful.
After all, George Clemente wants their destruction as much as he wants mine, thought Wallis.
“One last thought I want to leave you with before we celebrate this great occasion. Although Norman and Ned couldn’t be here tonight for this magical beginning, make no mistake, it takes all of us to create this fusion. This bridge to the other side. I know I can speak for Norman when I say he looks forward to meeting all of you when we meet again. His input will be invaluable and frankly, I need his support in order for us to be part of such an auspicious undertaking. Thank you.”
Wallis gave a last smile and waved at the cell phones. She knew she had never said George Clemente’s name. That would have to come from him, she thought. I’ve done all I’m going to do for you. Now, I’m coming for my husband, one way or the other. That’s what Harriet had repeated to her last night. We bring the fight to them. Don’t ever wait around for the enemy to find you.
That was my mistake, thought Wallis, but no more. Fuck you, George Clemente.
Richard Bach slid out the door without anyone noticing, wondering what was in it for him.
In Riverdale, in a cramped bedroom, Norman watched the small screen over George Clemente’s shoulder as Charlie sat nearby, giving away nothing.
Norman had the beginnings of a beard and he looked haggard from the lack of sleep but if anyone had turned around at the right moment they would have noticed something different. For the first time since this had started he had hope.
I love my wife, he thought. Biggest badass I know, aside from her mother. He quickly took the smile off of his face and sat their stony, watching for the chance to escape.
“Well, your wife is a little more clever than I would have expected,” said George Clemente, finally turning around to look at Norman. “She has found a way to make you useful, yet. Now, we will see what she can do with the Circle. Time for our nightly call to her, Charlie.”
Chapter 17
Ellen Reese called the cabinet meeting without telling President Haynes. It was a risk she was willing to take. She sat up straight, clearing her throat to get everyone’s attention.
Her chair was positioned at one end of the oval table, directly in front of the fireplace that was flanked on either side by busts of Benjamin Franklin and George Washington. She liked the way it framed her, suggesting her inclusion in the same august company.
It was customary that all of the chairs around the table started out positioned the same twelve inches away from the table. This allowed the occupant to slide into position and pull the chair forward without much effort.
Ellen’s usual habit was to stand in front of her chair and gently push back with her legs so that she could sit down on the edge of her seat, leaning forward on the table.
Ty Nichols sat at the other end of the table, taking notes so he could report back to the President later. He was part of the Vice President’s excuse she would use, if necessary. It wasn’t a rebuff, she would say, it was a consideration for the President’s busy schedule.
Ty sat there in a chair borrowed from a nearby room trying to look confident and composed. He had been measured for his chair well over a week ago but it took time and for now, he was sitting in a chair bought at an office supply store.
A staffer had offered a French reproduction from a nearby office but his new secretary had already cautioned him not to take it. She had worked for the previous Chief of Staff and it was rigorously suggested to him that he keep her on staff. She told him he’d end up sitting a few inches lower than everyone else. It was enough that he was new.
He quickly adjusted the height to make sure he was on par with everyone else but careful not to raise it to meet the height of the President’s chair, which was always two inches higher than everyone else’s. Another tip from his secretary.
Inside, he felt nervous, worried about how he might still be getting played. He scanned the room, wondering who were Ellen’s allies. That was his main goal for today.
He had been around politics long enough to know when someone had found themselves a pawn. The only thing he couldn’t figure out was her game plan. He knew, without that plan he was still in play as Ellen Reese’s prey.
Different members of the C
ircle were already flexing their muscles and maneuvering for more power. It was the first time in the group’s history that they were able to make any real changes and some people were hoping to improve their own circumstances. Clearly Ellen was one of them, thought Ty.
He needed to learn the playing field if he was going to last. It didn’t matter that they were all part of the Circle, not any more.
Ellen was never the most cordial creature he had encountered on an average day, anyway. Most of the time she had a bitter, acidic tone and was quick to cast off anyone who didn’t live up to her standards. It was part of the reason she was chosen to be Vice President. She was the perfect counterbalance to President Haynes affability and she was always around to say what needed to be said when no one else wanted to do it.
Lately, though, she could be heard humming in her office and even asked a secretary in the hallway how they were doing. The woman was so startled she never answered and Ellen had already moved on to something else, quickly forgetting the encounter. That was more true to form, thought Ty.
Ellen was wearing her signature black, in a form-fitting suit with no hint of color anywhere. Even her lips were a neutral matte giving off no hint of shine. Sometimes she was known to break up the monotony with different shades of grey.
“Let’s get started,” she said, checking her watch. Ty sat at the other end of the table, taking notes and watching everyone glance at the President’s empty seat positioned in its usual spot on the East side, in the center of the oval mahogany table.
A flank of assistants and interns sat behind the chairs, also on the East side, just in front of the French doors topped with arched lunette windows that overlooked the Rose Garden. Several were stifling yawns.
“Shouldn’t we wait for President Haynes,” said Martin Leland, the Secretary of the Treasury. He was an old crony of the President’s and their friendship dated to their days in the Senate together. He was also in one of the uppermost Circle cells. It was part of the reason he was chosen for the Cabinet position. He had the responsibility for watching over the most secure tunnels and was only one of a few people who knew about all of them.
Ellen Reese wasn’t even aware there was information that circulated without her.
“The President has been called away to more pressing issues,” said the Vice President with a dismissive tone. No one would have called that unusual but the Secretary leaned back in his chair and laid his pen down, frowning.
“I know you two are joined at the hip,” she said, glancing at the Secretary. “Not to worry. Ty is here as Chief of Staff and will be making a full report,” said the Vice President.
Ty glanced at the door that separated the Cabinet room from the Oval office and wondered how Ellen had managed to get the President out of the House and away for long enough to hold the meeting. It couldn’t have been easy and pointed to allies in the Secret Service.
Check names of presidential detail, he wrote.
“This is why we still have so many positions left to fill in corporate, military, even some political posts,” Ellen said, reading off of a list. “We’ve had these openings for months and should have capitalized on the weakness of our defeated foes and moved our people in as quickly as possible. By the time they even noticed there would already be changes. Necessary changes,” she said, arching a carefully drawn eyebrow.
She doesn’t know they’re quietly being filled, thought Ty, with members from the Butterfly Project. She’s being kept out of the innermost cell. The President must not trust her.
“We already had this conversation,” said Paul Anguirre, the Secretary of Defense. “We agreed that we wanted to do things differently than our predecessors in Management. We’re not actually trying to kick anyone while they’re down.”
“Secretary Anguirre is right. We have to operate from a different place,” said Secretary Leland. “It’s possible to make changes gradually. We may even convince a few of Management’s people to join us if they can see we actually live by all of those principles we’ve been shouting at them for generations.”
The Vice President delicately put her fingertips against her forehead pressing down gently. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she said, “we can certainly live up to our high ideals without sacrificing getting things done. It is possible to do both, ask any woman,” she said, lowering her hand and smiling.
Some of the cabinet members gave a cautious chuckle as they looked around the room. She’s starting to win them over, thought Ty.
“I’m not asking that we fill every position today,” she said, waving a thick binder in the air. “But there are key ones that need our attention and there are key people who deserve recognition, while we are able to do it. It’s not often that we control both houses as well as the White House and find Management in such a weakened state. We have less to fear for just a moment in time.”
Several of the men in the room shifted in their chairs. “Already thinking about when we get kicked out on our asses,” grumbled Secretary Allen Gifford, the oldest member of the cabinet, sitting closest to Ty.
Secretary Gifford had looked like he was sleeping, sitting with his chin on his chest and his eyes closed. He lifted his chin and snapped at the room, “Let the Vice President get out her damnable pitch. Interrupting is only delaying this interminable meeting. We can vote after we’ve heard Madame Vice President and let the conscience of the group speak.”
Ty stifled a laugh and made a note for the President as the Secretary went back to shutting his eyes. No one else dared the same trick. Their focus was turned to the Vice President who was scowling at the Secretary. He let out a snort as if he’d fallen asleep. Ty tapped his pen against his mouth, trying to hide a smile.
“Do what you like, Secretary Gifford. We have a quorum whether you wake up in time or not,” said the Vice President. The Secretary lifted his hand in a wave, his eyes still closed.
Ty leaned over and whispered, “Some day I hope I have that much nerve,” he said.
The Secretary opened his eyes without lifting his chin and leveled his gaze at Ty. “That will hopefully happen any day now,” he said, looking steadily at Ty.
Ty sat back in his chair, the smile gone.
“I like the idea of moving ahead.” Finn Warren, the Secretary of Health and Human Services, was a recent appointee. He had shown up early for his first Cabinet meeting.
There wasn’t time to deliver the standard handmade leather chair made to fit each Cabinet member with the small brass plaque on the back. An old chair from a past administration was dragged out of the basement for the Secretary while he had waited.
“As a matter of fact, I have a few names myself I’d like to put forward for consideration,” said Secretary Warren. “I made copies for everyone,” he said, standing up to pass them out to everyone. A White House butler stepped forward to take the sheets of paper from the Secretary, startling him. He hadn’t noticed the man standing quietly against the wall.
He reluctantly gave over the handouts and sat back down. A shimmer of sweat appeared on his forehead as he stammered, “The business of the nation has to be our priority and not any particular citizen’s hurt feelings. We serve everyone, including those who aren’t even aware there are two giant shadows standing behind them, directing everything. They deserve to have these positions filled as well, so that government keeps functioning. The Vice President is well within her rights, too, to call the meeting,” he said, sniffing, tapping his Waterman pen against the antique table.
The black pen with gold trim was the same pen everyone received when they accepted their Cabinet position. Most chose to keep the souvenir in its box and use a ninety-nine cent ballpoint pen instead.
“Thank you, Secretary Warren,” said the Vice President, pursing her lips. “I couldn’t have said it better. Our roles were established in Article II, Section two of the Constitution,” said the Vice President with an imperial tone. Quoting the Constitution was one of her favorite things to do especially to the press.
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“The Cabinet's role is to advise the President on any subject he may require relating to the duties of each member's respective office,” she said. “We are going to fulfill our duty today and come up with the names we want to see in the top one hundred open positions. Lunch will be served right here, if necessary, and we will leave with an agreement.”
Ty quietly made a note to himself to gather more information about Secretary Warren. He noticed how nervous the man was, more nervous than Ty felt, and wondered if it could all be chalked up to being new. The pieces still weren’t coming together.
“We’re going to start with the judges,” she said.
“We don’t have any say in who’s appointed as a judge,” said Secretary Gifford, his salt and pepper eyebrows waggling as he shook his finger in the air.
“I beg to differ,” said the Vice President sharply. “We most certainly do and I’m not even going to pretend you were unaware of that fact.”
“The President is given that honor,” said the Secretary, “according to the third Article of the Constitution,” he said, “as I’m assuming you well know.”
“We are well within our rights to give him our suggestions. There are a total of one hundred and seventy-nine judges in the thirteen different districts for the Court of Appeals. In the ninth district, which covers twenty percent of the American population with twenty-nine judges there are three important openings. These judges, once appointed, serve for life.” The Vice President said the last words slowly. Ty knew she was making a point. Maybe she’s right, he thought. We should be taking responsibility for moving ahead, and cementing our power structure at the same time.
“It’s amazing that so many were killed or died under less than agreeable conditions last year without the general public putting two and two together,” said Ellen, her tone lacking the expected sympathy. She sounded more disappointed.
