“Gentlemen, I’m going to need a ride,” Hawk said.
The guards looked at each other, mouths agape.
CHAPTER 23
Washington, D.C.
VICE PRESIDENT NOAH YOUNG WONDERED how he failed to remain president after filling in for Michaels when he was in the public’s crosshairs. Everything seemed primed for Young to sneak into the Oval Office through the figurative backdoor. But Michaels managed to turn what should’ve been a prompt exit into his own version of the Phoenix.
Young concluded that Americans are always suckers for a comeback story, especially one where the hero rises from the ashes. For most of his tenure, Michaels had been reviled by the American people and his own party. Nothing he did seemed to placate anyone, even while a collective list of grievances held by average citizens compounded daily with each political misstep. Eventually, Michaels had sunk so far to the bottom that his pathway to the top started with digging himself out of the mud. And he was mired in it.
Despite Michaels’ impossible situation, Young marveled at how the president had managed to rewrite history while also using his past to endear him to the American people. Without a doubt, Michaels’ revival during his first term was one of the most unlikely in the modern era. But Young knew the real story.
The real credit needed to be bestowed upon the Washington spin doctors, the masters of the Beltway. Instead of letting Michaels languish in his past sins, these manipulators of the public’s collective consciousness rebuilt the president’s image through a series of targeted campaigns to present a soft and gentler side of Michaels. Instead of a no-nonsense leader, a smattering of White House videos, staged photo ops, and footage from allegedly random cell phones that captured the president being human all found their way into social media streams that eventually trended on various websites and apps. Michaels had not only returned, but he’d returned in better shape than he’d ever been in.
And Young loathed every moment of it. The American people had been duped into believing Michaels was actually a decent human being. Young knew the truth.
Young’s phone rang from an unknown number.
“Hello?”
“Noah, this is J.D. Blunt. Can you talk right now?”
“Sure. What do you want?”
“To be honest, I want my life back—and I want Michaels gone.”
“Good luck with that,” Young said. “That ship sailed a long time ago. We have the most forgiving populace on the planet.”
“They might be forgiving, but they certainly don’t like being made fools of.”
“And who’s making fools of them?”
“Your boss is. He’s continuing to play this game in the shadows and has gotten away with it so far. But you can put a stop to that.”
“How exactly do you expect me to do that? Anything I do now could be considered a power grab, especially right before the election. I’d even be sabotaging my own political career.”
“Did you take this job because you wanted to further your political career? Or did you take it because you wanted to help your country?”
Young sighed. “I did it because I thought I could actually make a difference, but now . . .”
“You still can make a difference if you help get Michaels out of office and save America from his meddling ways. Leaving him in a position of power will result in some dark days ahead. He’s in danger of destabilizing the entire Middle East even more so than it already is and empowering terrorists to bring their tactics to U.S. soil.”
“You know how I feel about him.”
“I do, which is why I’m coming to you with this plea to help stop him.”
“So, what exactly can I do? I can’t forcibly remove him.”
“Everything will take care of itself if you do what I tell you,” Blunt said. “You can assure that his reputation is destroyed once and for all. All the questions that will arise should result in some heated congressional hearings. And I don’t even think his party will want to defend him after the truth surfaces.”
“What do you think he’s going to confess to? He’s still never admitted he ever did anything wrong.”
“If he thinks he’s talking to you as his trusted vice president, he might let his guard down.”
“That’s a big if. I certainly am not under any illusion that he trusts me.”
“But he might,” Blunt said. “Give him a reason to. You can come up with something.”
“And then you just expect him to magically divulge the darkest of secrets that will end his aspirations at another term and could possibly land him in prison?”
“I know it might be a long shot, but it’s one of the few we have at this point. If there was another way. . .”
Young huffed a short breath through his nose. “There’s always another way.”
“Not necessarily legal ones. This one needs to happen the right way. We’re not a banana republic—at least, not yet anyway.”
“Do you have proof of what he’s doing?”
“Wikileaks has already shown what he’s up to.”
“But only the tinfoil hat wearers believe that, which is a small part of the population. The media has moved on from that story. It’s been relegated to the trash heap that is fake news.”
“All you need to do is have him tell you what he’s done. Once that recording goes public, the media won’t be able to ignore that story.”
“I’ll give it a shot,” Young said. “But I wouldn’t get my hopes up. If there’s anything I’ve learned about Michaels while working with him over the past four years, it’s that he is savvy and can see things coming far before anyone else.”
“That’s all I can ask for.”
“Just don’t call me again,” Young said. “I don’t want to raise any suspicion. I’ll call you from another number.”
Blunt gave Young his number before they ended their call.
Young immediately dialed Michaels’ secretary. She was always helpful with his requests and found a 15-minute window she could squeeze him into later that afternoon.
* * *
YOUNG ENTERED MICHAELS’ OFFICE and strode across the room before taking a seat across from the president. Michaels’ head was buried in a document and he didn’t bother to look up.
“What is it, Noah?” he asked. “I don’t know if you can tell, but I’m extremely busy these days.”
“I understand, but I wanted to talk about something I heard.”
Michaels sighed and dropped the papers on his desk. “Oh, great. Now the rumor mill is creating interruptions in my day. What is it this time?”
“Don’t act like this is some intrusion into your work time. What I’m about to ask you about might be what saves your presidency.”
“As if that’s something you care about, seeing how as recently as a year ago you tried to steal my chair.”
Young shook his head. “I was just following the protocol of the United States Constitution. When you’re relieved of duty, I take over. It’s really very simple. And do I need to remind you that you willingly stepped down during the investigation?”
“Will you get on with it? Unlike you, I’m not just a figurehead.”
“As you wish,” Young said. “I wanted to speak with you today because I heard that it’s possible that you may have been sending arms to some—how shall I say it—non-state actors in the Middle East?”
“This is a rumor now? Wikileaks splashed this all over their front page a few days ago—but the story was deemed contrived. Besides, I’d never send weapons to any terrorists. I’m insulted that you’d believe such an accusation for even a split second, especially after it has been debunked.”
“I’m not talking about Wikileaks,” Young said. “I’ve heard this from several other sources. Apparently, there’s more to this than just a recording.”
“A manipulated recording,” Michaels said, wagging his finger. “And I don’t know who your sources are, but they’re lying to you.”
“Look, maybe
you’re trying to protect me with plausible deniability and all that, but I need to know if you’re arming terrorists. I don’t want to get blindsided by anything.”
“For the last time, no. I’m not privy to any such action, no matter how sure your sources are that this is happening. It simply isn’t true.”
“Okay,” Young said as he stood up. “Thank you for your candor. I’ll leave you alone to finish your work.”
Michaels looked back down at his papers and waved with the back of his hand dismissively at Young.
“Don’t bother me again with this type of garbage. It’s not worth my time to respond.”
Young exited quickly and returned to his office. He wasted no time in calling Blunt.
“How’d it go?” Blunt asked.
“You’re gonna have to find another way,” Young said. “Michaels didn’t go for the bait.”
“Not even a nibble?”
“Nothing. Even with me, he’s holding fast to the line that it’s all contrived, a witch hunt by his detractors.”
“That bastard.”
“He didn’t rise to that office without some serious political savvy.”
“Well, I’m not sure I’ve got any bullets left in my gun,” Blunt said. “Michaels’ ability to duck and dodge every scandal is bewildering. Short of shooting him in the head, I’m not sure there is a way to remove him from his position.”
“What about Hawk?”
“You want Hawk to assassinate Michaels?”
“I’m not suggesting any such thing. Your words, not mine.”
Blunt grunted. “I want this done through some type of legal channels. We’re not going to stoop to Michaels’ level. Besides, even if I did suggest that to Hawk, he wouldn’t do it. He’s too much of a patriot, even if the end justifies the means.”
“No, no. I mean, perhaps there’s another way Hawk could pressure Michaels, maybe even get him to admit what he’s done.”
“That’d take some serious logistics and insider help. And I’m afraid we don’t have that many allies at the moment. Everyone sees where this election is going and they want to saddle their horse to the winning cart. I’d be lucky to get any favors at this point.”
“Fine,” Young said. “I just wanted to let you know that I did what I could.”
“Well, hang tight. There might another way—a legal way. I’ll call you soon.”
Young hung up and spun around in his chair. He stared out the office window, wondering if the view might be his for the next four years—or only the next four weeks. The way he saw the situation unfolding, Michaels was in an all-or-nothing scenario. Prison or four more years—a strange pairing of options, but there was no other alternative as far as Young could see.
As much as he enjoyed his position and all the accoutrements that went along with it, Young had long since concluded he could part with everything—if it meant the removal of Michaels as president.
CHAPTER 24
Washington, D.C.
HAWK HAD LAID LOW FOR TWO DAYS at Hohenfels with General Van Fortner before attempting to re-enter the U.S. Despite toting a plethora of passports crafted for the various legends Hawk held, traveling commercially was a risky proposition. He needed something sure, something solid. Fortner stepped in again to help.
After a conversation with Blunt, Fortner informed Hawk that his best chance to get to Washington would be on a C-17 military transport plane. Assigning Hawk to the next flight leaving Hohenfels for Washington, Fortner expressed how he’d done all he could do and wished Hawk good luck.
Once the C-17 landed on U.S. soil, Hawk rented a room for a couple of weeks at an extended stay hotel. He rented a car and promptly changed the plates, swapping them with another rental vehicle he identified in the hotel parking lot across the street from his. Once Hawk was confident that he’d eliminated any chance of getting happened upon by local law enforcement, he started to piece together his plan. He’d read that Michaels was planning on heading to Camp David the next day. That was all Hawk needed to begin planning his next move.
Hawk called Alex, who followed their protocol for voice contact in the event of an emergency. While technically far away from a crisis situation, Hawk needed to connect with Alex, if anything for his own sanity. He wanted her stamp of approval for his proposed plan of attack as well as enlisting her help for live support.
“So, what do you think?” Hawk asked. “What pitfalls am I overlooking?”
She remained silent for nearly half a minute, causing Hawk to wonder if they’d become disconnected or perhaps something worse—Michaels’ minions had managed to track her down to Brighton.
But her smooth voice eliminated his concern, which turned out to be unfounded.
“I’m worried that this won’t work,” she said. “There are too many opportunities for this thing to go sideways. And the minute it does, you’re gone—and gone forever.”
“Living out my days in Terre Haute wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen to me,” Hawk said.
“That federal prison won’t take too kindly to you. Michaels will gleefully send you there, where you’ll be assaulted daily by Al Hasib operatives who have been captured and convicted to life sentences.”
“We’re obviously talking in hypotheticals here—and such outcomes are unlikely. Besides, we both know this is going to work.”
“I’d rather you wait, Hawk. I have my own plan already set in motion, one that you may not even have to lift a finger to see through.”
She explained the details of how she intended to imperil Michaels’ re-election campaign and asked Hawk for his feedback.
“Depending on others to do the dirty work is never a great tactic,” Hawk said. “The moment someone goes off script, you’re in trouble. And you’ll never be able to get things back. Winding up the clock and turning it loose? Not a surefire approach.”
“Well, it’s too late,” she said. “The plan has already been set in motion.”
“What if this gets in my way?”
“Then I’ll send you in to make sure everything runs smoothly. See? Problem solved.”
Hawk chuckled. “I’m glad to see that over the past nine months you’re still as sassy as ever.”
“And you haven’t lost any of your bravado. But seriously, I’d rather you wait and see before you storm the castle. I really think my plan is going to work, and the less we stay out of the crosshairs, the better as it pertains to our future.”
“If we wait on this, it may not matter. Once Michaels is re-elected, all bets are off.”
“This won’t take that long.”
“But you want to rely on the legal system to handle this. When was the last time they ever delivered for you?”
“Stop being so stubborn, Hawk. Think of this as the kind of operation that requires weeks, not hours. It’s going to work.”
“Let’s suppose for a moment that your plan is flawless. You’ve accounted for everything, including the variables of how certain people might react when placed in a pressure cooker of a situation like you’ve created. Even if you’re right, how long will this take before Michaels is gone and behind bars? Months? Years? We simply don’t have that long, not for our own sake or for the sake of the country. If Michaels remains in power, God only knows the destruction that we’ll suffer at the hands of this maniac. We’re liable to have another 9-11 all over again, only this time it could be far worse.”
“But charging in and handling it like a vigilante amounts to nothing more than anarchy—and that’s not good for the country in the long run either. You’ll open up Pandora’s box with that and will never be able to put it back.”
Hawk sighed. “I’m going to be vigilant, but not a vigilante. I’ll make him do the right thing.”
“If you’re making him do anything, he’ll fight back. He needs to choose to resign.”
“What makes you think Michaels would ever be humble enough to walk away without a fight?”
“I expect a fight, but he’s goi
ng to lose. The American people are going to find out exactly what kind of monster he is. But don’t worry—I have a failsafe.”
“You’re counting on me to handle this if it doesn’t work out?”
Alex chuckled. “When I was planning things, I wasn’t sure I could count on you getting out alive. So, I went with my next best option.”
“And who’s that?”
“Just don’t go right now, Hawk. Promise me that you’ll wait for a few days and let me keep you updated on what’s happening.”
“I don’t know, Alex. Sitting by idly isn’t my style.”
“Just promise me, Hawk. Okay? That’s what I need to hear right now.”
“I promise to proceed with caution.”
“Hawk!”
“It’s the best I can do, Alex. I’m not gonna lie to you.”
“Fine. I’ll take what I can get. But use extreme caution. Understand?”
“I’ll do my best.”
Hawk hung up and stared out the window at the Washington cityscape sprawling below. He vowed to honor his word to Alex, but he knew he wouldn’t sit around and wait long.
Something’s got to give—and it’s not going to be me.
CHAPTER 25
Camp David, Maryland
PRESIDENT MICHAELS APPROACHED the tee box with a swagger that didn’t quite fit his golf game. Since taking office nearly four years prior, he’d discovered that his skill level had increased significantly. He attributed his improvement to the fact that he had more access to more courses than he’d ever had before—and he took full advantage of them.
He leaned down and put a ball on top of a tee and slid it into the ground. Once he straightened upright, he glanced back over his shoulder to see David Kriegel whispering something to another aide. Kriegel covered his mouth with his hand, but Michaels knew what he was saying. Undoubtedly, Kriegel had launched into a diatribe about the terrible optics of golfing so close to the election. He’d implored Michaels to forego the outing and attend a nearby rally. But Michaels refused to listen.
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