by Josie Brown
“Upon his death, did his widow—Babette Breck, now the First Lady—put Breck Industries up for sale?”
“Yes. And Carl Stone brokered the deal between Babette and Lee Chiffray. In fact, they met through Carl.”
“Interesting,” Tala’s reply is so soft I can barely hear her. After a moment she announces, “Thank you, Mr. Craig, for your testimony. I now wish to call Donna Stone Craig to the stand.”
Tala doesn’t beat around the bush. “Do you consider yourself a close, personal friend of President Chiffray?”
“Yes, I do.” I am proud that my voice doesn’t waver.
“How did you meet?”
“During a mission. Acme was asked to investigate the disappearance of an NSA scientist working on a top-secret chemical weapons project. He was last tracked to an island resort.”
“Was then Mr. Chiffray a suspect in the scientist’s disappearance?”
“No. He came on our radar only because his features were similar to the scientist’s—and because he seemed to be racking up so many chips at the casino.” I shrug. “By then, Mr. and Mrs. Chiffray were dating. As it turns out, they were vacationing at the resort, which was a property in the Breck Industries portfolio.”
As I was soon to discover, Fantasy Island wasn’t just about sun, sand, and eco-friendly tiki tents. For those who sought darker diversions, it had an exclusive hunt club where humans were prey of sport.
Ironically, Babette stalked Lee every bit as carefully as the wealthy hunters who chased down the prisoners released from the Plexiglas cages deep within the resort’s bowels.
“The Brecks had been our neighbors,” I continue. “My youngest daughter, who is a close friend of then Mrs. Breck’s daughter, was invited as Janie’s guest. However, since I hadn’t met Mr. Chiffray prior to their arrival on the island, I didn’t realize he was there with Babette until I, er…ran into her.”
Really, I walked in on her as she was about to partake in some whipped cream-induced orgy with Dominic. He takes his job as an undercover agent quite seriously. I won’t go into the particulars now. Dominic will be delighted to enthrall Tala with details of his conquests. Here’s hoping he won’t perjure himself with too many embellishments.
“Did you find the scientist?”
“Yes. Although it was presumed he left the NSA lab on his own volition, Acme learned that his disappearance was in fact a kidnapping by the Quorum. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to save him before he was murdered.”
“So, the island—the location of a Quorum mission—was an asset of Breck Industries, which was acquired by GWI. If all of this is true, President Chiffray’s due diligence was lacking, to say the least.”
“In fact, Lee was on a working vacation. He was considering pulling the financing from that asset. To that end, the trip was a success. He was lucky enough to have done so.”
Tala lets that sink in. “I’m still not convinced that someone with Mr. Chiffray’s business intuition and financial success could have been so blind as to the ties he had with the Quorum.”
“I agree.” I look her in the eye. “Sadly, love can do that to a person.”
Tala stares at me, confused. “Would you care to elaborate, Mrs. Craig?”
There, in a dark mahogany-paneled chamber, I play Scheherazade to the mesmerized few permitted to hear my testimony.
However, my tale is not mythic lore but the cold hard facts as I know them, so help me God.
At this point, I don’t care that it paints a picture of our president as a gullible suitor blinded by his attraction to a beautiful widow who wore the tragic circumstance of her first husband’s death as if it were Dior widow’s weeds.
I explain how Lee, even when threatened with Carl’s blackmail, directed Acme to gather intel on the Quorum. We were to report only to him, bypassing the one person who could shut us down.
“During that time, the Quorum grew stronger,” I explain. “Its acquired conglomerates similar to Breck Industries: all well-financed and publicly traded; a financial Rubik’s cube with many moving parts.”
“Where dirty money could be shuffled or hidden,” Tala reasons.
“Exactly. They own a portfolio of companies that produces the tools or provides the services needed to wreak havoc with stable democratic governments.”
“Similar to Hartland Media,” Tala says.
“Yes,” I confirm fervently. “You see, in today’s world, an open tech-savvy media is a double-edged sword. It can bring us together or tear us apart. We have been taught to assume news is provided with journalistic integrity: fact-checked, and therefore based on history, reality, or the time in which it took place. But a mere phrase—especially one that provokes fear—can alter our perception of reality. It obscures the truth. In our recent past, Russia’s troll factory, Internet Research Agency, provided the necessary wake-up call. But Russia’s outright and surreptitious purchase of a far-reaching and supposedly legitimate news outlet—a bastion of the Fourth Estate, as it were—has had a far-reaching effect.” I scan the faces before me. “Lee cleaned house. Carl is dead. The titular head of the Quorum, Eric Weber, is also dead. The Quorum has been his cross to bear, but its demise has also his mission. As Hartland Media proved, there is still much to do. He can only do it, though, if he stays in office.”
I take a deep breath.
The hero of my story is a devoted husband, a caring father, a strategic commander in-chief, a thoughtful president, and an inspiring statesman. Has he garnered enough sympathy to keep him out of jail?
It’s a long shot since he’s also the American president being blackmailed by foreign agents who wish to create chaos throughout our country by any means possible.
All I can do is pray for the judge’s leniency toward Lee.
“Are you implying the means supports the end?” Tala retorts. “That the lies President Chiffray has told to stay in office justifies the actions that put him there?”
No, it doesn’t. The judge knows this too. I see it on his face.
Before Tala can ask another question, one of her Special Counsel team members enters the courtroom. In five strides, he’s at her side. He slips her a note.
No emotions cross her face as she reads it. Then, in a crisp, cool voice, she declares, “President Chiffray is resigning from office. Your Honor, the grand jury can be dismissed of any further duties.”
It takes a minute or two for that to sink in.
When the shock subsides, the judge quickly brings the proceedings to a close. Stunned, I and those left to hear this unfortunate series of events filter out the chambers’ heavy double doors.
Ryan and Jack are waiting for me.
Before I can ask, Ryan is already answering the many questions reeling in my mind. “Lee and his personal attorneys have cut a deal with Reynolds. Bottom line: Lee will be censured and resign immediately to avoid impeachment for high crimes and misdemeanors. He will also avoid criminal prosecution.”
“Thank God,” I exclaim.
“He will leave the White House by noon tomorrow: by limousine and alone.”
I frown. “You mean Babette and the children aren’t accompanying him?”
“Her public statement is that she’s mortified and heartbroken. She is also filing for divorce,” Jack says. “In other words, she won’t be there for his presidential perp walk.”
That cowardly bitch.
Jack and I make the grand decision to order room service: steaks, mashed potatoes, a green salad, and a great bottle of wine.
Like me, Jack is ravenous. We devour the meal without talking. At first, I put it off to the fact that we’re both dead tired and wrung out after our appearances before the special court. But when I reach for the salt and Jack grabs my hand, I can tell by the look in his eyes that it has nothing to do with his concern over my sodium intake.
“Okay, spill it,” I demand.
I expect it has something to do with my testimony. Surely, he’s going to tease me for my recital of the Quorum’s
greatest hits. Or maybe he’s going to scold me for playing defense attorney for Lee.
In any regard, I feel no compulsion to apologize for anything I said. Jack will just have to live with that.
He starts with a sigh. “Listen, Donna, I owe you an apology for being jealous over Lee.”
My mouth drops open because I don’t believe what I’m hearing. Benjamin Franklin once said, “Never ruin an apology with an excuse.” At this moment, I take the advice to heart.
I force myself to nod.
“I know there was nothing between you—well, except for his infatuation for you and your devotion to the office of the president.” He looks intently at me. “And it heartens me tremendously to know he didn’t really love you.”
“What?” Wait! Lee…doesn’t? “Why do you say that?”
“Because he loved Babette despite the fact she didn’t love him back.” Jack shrugs. “The poor sap proved it every step of the way. Hell, he was even willing to sacrifice his freedom for her. What a waste that would have been! He was a good president. Had she never come into his life, he might have been a great one.”
“More than likely he wouldn’t have been president at all,” I remind him.
“Hey, knowing what he does now, I’m sure he’d have been fine with that.” Jack crosses his heart. “So, on my honor, I’m okay letting bygones be bygones.”
“As of tomorrow at noon, you can tell him yourself. I’m sure it’ll make his day,” I say with a laugh. “Seriously, Jack, I hope you’ll give it a go. Hey, maybe you and Lee will become besties! You know, Hilldale’s DILF-iest duo, breaking all the yummy mommies’ hearts at the country club.”
He chuckles. “You’re on—if we ever see the Chiffrays again. Once Babette is through divorcing Lee, he may not be able to afford the largest mansion in Hilldale.”
I frown. “Which reminds me! I promised Trisha I’d give Janie the Hilldale Elementary School soccer team jersey!”
So that I don’t forget it, I roll out of bed, I dig it out of my suitcase, and stuff it in a hotel gift bag.
“This morning Ryan has a meeting lined up with Edmonton. He asked if we’d tag along. You can chase her down then.”
“I’ll certainly use it to get me into the West Wing, but I’ll pass on the confab.” The thought of seeing that creep behind the Oval Office desk gives me a shiver. “As far as Edmonton is concerned, I’m just eye candy anyway.”
“He’ll soon learn to respect you,” Jack replies. “Someday his presidency—perhaps even his life—will depend on it.”
He’s not fishing for a kiss, but he gets one anyway, among other things that ensure we will both have a goodnight’s rest.
19
Screamer
The banner encasing the headline across or near the top of all or most of a newspaper’s front page is called a “screamer.”
This type of layout is used when the newspaper wants to announce something very important has happened and the world needs to know about it.
Screamers are also known as “ribbons,” “lines,” or “streamers.” (Meh. Not as EXCITING!)
You too are free to use screamers to get the attention of those you love.
(In fact, some sex partners actively look for “screamers”—but that’s for another sort of book.)
Tip: To save time and effort, consider foregoing the paper, ink, layout, and newspaper press expenses. Instead, when the one who needs to hear you most is asleep, just get right down next to his ear and
SCREAM!
At the appointed hour, Ryan, Jack, and I arrive at the White House. Before we secure our badges and are shown to the Roosevelt Room, my purse and gift bag are searched, as is Ryan’s briefcase.
With the excuse that I must find the lavatory, I slip out to the staircase leading to the second floor of the Executive Residence, where I know I’ll find the Chiffrays.
The family’s Secret Service detail scan me. I smile and nod, but I am not stopped. The color of my security badge indicates I’ve got Intelligence Agency clearance. Besides, they recognize me from the numerous times they’ve seen me at Lion’s Lair.
Janie’s bedroom door is open. Before me is a tender sight: the poor girl is crying in Lee’s arms.
“But why aren’t you going with us?” She chokes out her words through her sobs.
“I’m sorry, Janie, but your mother is right. It would be best if you ride with her and Harrison in the other car. That way, when the reporters are too loud, you can help your mother calm your baby brother.”
“I’d rather be with you! You’re the one they want to hurt!” she argues tearfully.
“I promise you that as soon as we’re off the White House grounds, we’ll meet up and…and I’ll get out and ride with you and the rest of the family.” Lee’s voice is husky. He’s having just as hard of a time as Janie with Babette’s directive.
“No, we won’t!” Janie exclaims with an adamant shake of her head. “I heard Mummy tell Chantal that we’ll never see you again—ever!”
Lee is silent. I imagine he is stunned by this new knowledge of his wife’s true plan.
At that moment, Lee’s head turns. He sees me.
I feel my cheeks redden.
He forgives my embarrassment with a stilted wave to enter.
Quickly, I step into the room and shut the door behind me. “Good morning, Mr. President. I’m so happy I caught you in time, Janie. I’d promised Trisha that I’d give you this.”
I open the gift bag and hold up the jersey.
Janie’s eyes open wide. Reluctantly, she lets go of Lee. I can’t blame her. He has been the calm eye in Babette’s maelstrom.
Gone is the spoiled, aloof ten-year-old whose sullen eyes and downcast pout made up her signature look. She walks in slow, measured steps until she reaches me. By now, a trail of tears is crawling down her cheek. Taking the jersey, she whispers, “Thank you, Mrs. Craig.”
The next thing I know, Janie has her arms around me.
Frustrated, Lee bows his head.
“What the hell is going on!” No one heard Babette open the door.
She’s ready for her public swan song: her sleek, fitted, black jacket over matching skinny slacks and four-inch stiletto heels send a formidable impression: she will leave as the victor.
She holds Harrison, but the infant squirms in her arms until he sees Lee. With a gleeful squeal he reaches for his father.
Lee smiles, if only for his son. When he walks over, Babette reluctantly lets go of the child but she only has eyes for me. “I asked what you’re doing here, in our private quarters,” she snarls.
Lee glances at a wall clock. “They’re ours for another ten minutes, anyway.”
“That’s your fault, not mine!” she snaps. “You were a fool to resign!”
“You’d rather I hang in there to testify for the Special Prosecutor?” He takes a step toward her. “Aren’t you the least concerned as to what I might have said?”
She blinks. Like magic, a tear falls. “You told me… You swore—”
“You took an oath, too, remember? At our wedding! Love, honor, cherish.” His shoulders sag. “In sickness and in health. Well, Babette, I am sick of your lies and your games.” Gently, he pats Harrison’s dark curls. “You’ve already won. You’ll be remembered as ‘the good wife’ who did the right thing—by not standing by her man.”
Until now, I hadn’t noticed that Janie has moved beside Lee and is cowering behind him.
Apparently, Babette realizes this too. She stalks over to her daughter. “What are you holding behind you, young lady?”
Janie stutters, “It’s from Trisha. It’s a soccer jersey, like hers.”
Babette snatches the jersey from Janie’s hand and holds it up. “‘Hilldale Soccer’? As if! We are never going back to that odious town!”
Enough of this crap!
I grab the jersey. “This was a gift from my daughter to yours.”
As I hand it back to Janie, I notice the embroidered initi
als under the team’s name:
JBC
It stands for Janie Breck Chiffray—
And the offshore bank account.
Incensed at my audacity, Babette reaches for the shirt again, but this time the look on my face says it all:
Don’t even try.
She stops in her tracks.
I hand Janie the jersey.
Even a beautiful woman’s face is hideous when she screams. Babette’s is no exception. “How dare you! Haven’t you done enough to wreck my marriage?”
Lee’s chuckle is mirthless. “You never needed her help, Babette. You’ve done a great job all on your own—you and the Quorum. Now, if you’ll excuse me, every network camera is waiting for me to wave my final farewell to the nation before driving off into exile.”
Having witnessed Babette and Lee trade barbs, the au pairs are too stunned to move. But as Lee strides out, they shuffle to one side.
Babette points at the two dumbstruck women. “This isn’t a sideshow, ladies! Put my kids in the car. I’ll be there as soon as I take care of this last little issue.” Glaring at her shaking daughter, she hisses, “Go with them—now!”
Janie runs out of the room.
The women nod. One of them has enough sense to shut the door. No need for anyone else to witness our argument.
And yes, I am ready for it.
Babette swings back around toward me. “This isn’t over, Donna. When I get done with you, you’ll wish you’d never met me.”
“You’re wrong, Babette. The realization that my life would have been better without you happened almost from Day One.” I shrug. “It was inevitable, wasn’t it? Let’s face it. You’ve always been the steadfast power behind the Quorum.”
The anger leaves her face. Triumph takes its place. “You finally figured that out, have you?” she hisses. “Men! All it takes is a few strokes to their egos, among other things. Well, a lot of good your great epiphany will do since you’ll never be able to prove it. All roads lead to Lee.”