by Lewis, Rykar
“Meaning since there’s finally a Marine on the White House staff – other than me of course – that man could get the perfect gift for the President since he knows him better than anyone else.”
Parks wasn’t convinced. “Sir, I really don’t know POTUS that well. I’ve seen him only a handful of times and always on the job, sir. I’ve never held a casual word with him. Sir, how can I possibly figure out what to get him?”
“You’re a smart guy, you’re an officer, and officers are smart. You’ll find a way to figure it out. You’ve got a couple days to think about it anyway.”
“Who will I give the gift to when I find it, sir?” Parks questioned.
“Swing it by HQMC and I’ll take a look at it. But you can keep it with you since you’ll be presenting it to the President.”
Parks was shocked. “Sir, I thought you said the top brass of every branch was going to be there. That means the top general officers will be presenting their branch’s presents. What’s it going to look like when the Marine Corps has a major doing their presentation, sir?”
“It’ll show everyone that Marines judge character, not brass. Besides that, the President likes you. He picked you out of lots of guys you know.”
“Yes sir, I know that. Oh, what day is his birthday, and by what time do I have to obtain the present, sir?”
“His birthday’s on the 14th of April and I suggest that you secure the present soon.”
“All right sir.”
“Good. Well that’s all, Major, except one thing – it’s a personal request from me.”
“What is it, sir?” Parks asked tentatively.
“The President’s a big history buff and the other military branches will probably give him some historical things. But my request is that you get a Marine Corps history present that will shame every other service’s gift, okay?”
* * *
Solomon entered Parks’ office without knocking and slammed the door behind him to let Parks know he was there.
“Solomon what do you need?” Parks asked from behind his desk without looking up.
“I was just checking if you were still planning on doing PT at 1300,” Solomon responded. “Is something wrong?”
Parks held up his scribbled-on paper, bearing a list of items, some with checkmarks beside them, and some without. “Guess what I’ve been snagged for.”
“Don’t tell me, don’t tell me,” Solomon begged. “I know it, it’s gotta be...let’s see...janitor duty.”
“No way.”
“All right give me a hint. Is it better or worse?”
“About the same.”
“Okay then, it must be that you have to brief the NSA on service records. No, it can’t be that. Um…you’re getting a transfer so that you can be a general’s aide?”
“No, no,” Parks countered. “I have to guess what’s on the President’s birthday list.”
Solomon smirked. “You’re kidding. The President’s going to have a birthday?”
“Every year.”
“No, I mean is he going to have a birthday party this year? When? Where?”
Parks clicked his pen repetitively to the point of being obnoxious. “It’s going to be a fancy deal at the Marine Barracks at 8th and I. Fourteenth of next month. Special invitation only. Most or all of the Joint Chiefs will be there presenting the President with their service’s gifts. Except for the Marine Corps. I’m going to be presenting the Corps’ gift, and I have to pick it out. Happy birthday Mr. President sir,” Parks said sarcastically.
Solomon whistled. “That sounds like fun – the party I mean. Who’s the President going to invite?”
Parks continued working on the list. “Our team for one. But I’d rather not go to the stinkin’ party.”
“Then why do you have to?”
“Because the Commandant of the Marine Corps called me with a request that I find the perfect gift, and present it.”
“Yeah but the key word is requested.”
“Solomon, in the military a request is a command no matter how polite,” Parks told him. “But I sure wish he wouldn’t have requested this. The last time I went to anything formal was when I went to the Marine Corps Birthday Ball wearing butter bars and a pizza stain. That was my first year in the Corps, and the last time I’ll go to the Birthday Ball for a while if I can help it. I hate parties.”
“Butter bars?” Solomon asked. “What are butter bars?”
“Gold second lieutenant bars. That’s a slang word for them.”
“And you were eating pizza?” Solomon pressed even though he knew he kept interrupting Parks.
“No Solomon, that’s what they call the National Defense Medal. It’s red and yellow and every new Marine gets it if they sign up during a time of war. Sometimes they call it a fire watch medal too.”
“All right, one more question,” Solomon pleaded.
Parks set his pen down and looked up at Solomon. “One more. What is it?”
“Why do you hate parties? I think they’re kind of fun.”
“Look, I like celebrating the Marine Corps Birthday and all but things just didn’t go well that day.”
“Why not?”
“This may shock you, but I have a slight aversion to germs. So anyway, I had to eat there, and I just couldn’t bear the thought of who cooked the food, you know? It was good food but who knows who made it, so I was totally disgusted. Then, the guy on my right – he was a sergeant major I think – he sneezed and that just did it for me. I could not eat any more. And then my CO started introducing me to a bunch of guys and their wives and I was like forget it man I’m out of here.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Well I’m not a really social person, and I’m not a big fan of meeting new people – you know, you have to shake their hand, tell them all about yourself. I just don’t like it.”
Solomon twisted his face. “I’d say you have a major aversion to germs.”
Parks stared up at Solomon. “You want to know the last time I was sick? When I was eight, and that was because my brother had just been killed. Being anti-germs works. And not only will germs make you sick, they’re just gut-wrenching to be around.”
Solomon burst out laughing and went into hysterics. “Remind me not to invite you for Easter dinner,” he said between gasps for air.
Parks refused to laugh. “Are you gonna leave this office or am I gonna have to drag you out?” he asked jestingly.
After several minutes Solomon finally mellowed out.
“What are you going to give the President,” he wondered.
“Maybe you can help me, Solomon,” Parks announced hopefully. “I don’t have a clue what I’m going to give him but I need to figure it out very soon. I’ve gone over everything from a Marine Corps emblem tie, to an Outstanding Civilian Service Medal, to an engraved KA-BAR, and nothing seems to be proper. I don’t know the President that well so it’s hard.”
Solomon thought long and hard. “Well all I can advise is that you talk to the First Lady. She’ll know.”
“Forget about it, I ain’t doing that. I’ve never even seen the First Lady, and she’s never seen me. There’s no way. Solomon, I know nothing about this First Family except that they are the First Family. I voted for President Winnfield because he’s a great conservative but that’s where my knowledge of him stops.”
“You know he was an Army colonel, don’t you?”
Parks went back to writing. “Yeah, but what am I supposed to do, get him an Army Strong plaque? I’m a Marine, and this present is from the Marines. I won’t lower myself to the Army’s level.”
“I was thinking more of those toy soldiers,” Solomon joked. “That’d be kind of cool.”
“Then let the Army do that. I’m not going to give the President a bag of plastic soldiers. I have to find something manly, something tough, something Marine Corps. And nothing Army related will fill that bill.”
* * *
Renee Winnfield was more e
xcited than she’d been in a long time. Her mom had just called, explaining how a birthday party was going to be thrown for her dad. The best part about it was that she was not only invited but her mom had already lined up all of the flight details. Renee would leave for D.C. on the morning of the 14th, arrive at the White House sometime around noon, and then spend the rest of the day preparing for the party.
She was excited to see her dad again and she was very anxious to see her mom, especially since the two hadn’t seen each other since the inauguration.
Renee picked up her desk phone and punched in her second-in-command’s extension number.
“Online Business Transactions – Marco Kormas,” the man mumbled wearily.
“Hey Mar this is Renee.”
The man’s voice perked up instantly. “Well hello, how are you? And for what do I receive this call?”
Renee stared out the window of her perfectly-decorated office, five floors above the ground, and noticed the clear blue sky. It was a beautiful day, too nice to be stuck in an office building. But she didn’t have a choice, she had work to do. The multimillionaire CEO would be glad to take a vacation. She hadn’t had one in two full years, but just last week she had made arrangements to vacation in Montana sometime in June. But now that she would be traveling to her dad’s birthday party, it was going to be called off.
“There’s been a change in plans,” she explained. “I’m going to be taking about a week’s vacation starting on the 14th. I’ll be back to work by Monday the 21st.”
“Still going to Montana?” Kormas asked.
“No, I’m going to see my parents. My dad’s going to have a birthday party – it’s his fifty-fifth.”
“Sounds like fun. But I thought you were finally going to see Montana. You’ve been talking about it ever since I started working here.”
“I’ll go there eventually, Mar, don’t worry.”
“You sure will,” Kormas confirmed. “If I have to rent my father’s Gulfstream V jet to get you there I will. This business can’t have a work-weary owner you know.”
Renee smiled to herself. “Thanks Mar. Anyway, I’ll need you to take things over while I’m gone. Can you handle that?”
“Sure. I could make a great business partner you know.”
Renee shook her head in denial but didn’t say anything.
“Are you still there?” Kormas wondered after a long silence.
“Oh, sorry, I was just thinking.” Renee tapped her fingers on the desk in front of her and sighed. “I’d better let you go; I still have much to do.”
“Uh, okay. Goodbye.”
Renee hung up the phone, stood up, and began pacing her office. It was going to be hard for her to wait until she headed for D.C.
* * *
Parks heard a knock at his door and he went to answer it. He was at his home in D.C. The National Security Advisor had allowed his entire team to take the afternoon off since the President’s party was that evening. It was 1400, and only two hours remained until he had to arrive at 8th and I with the President’s gift wrapped and ready for the party at 1700.
Parks unlocked the door and swung it open.
“Solomon,” he said. “What on earth are you doing here? The party’s in a few hours.”
Solomon waved away Parks’ comment. “I’ve got time. What are you doing?”
“I’m busy, Solomon, very busy. I’d like to talk but I still have three billion things to do.”
“Yeah well I’ll come in, you don’t have to worry about me,” Solomon offered. He pushed past Parks and stepped inside.
Parks shut the door and turned around. “You mean to tell me you’re going to wear blue jeans and a sweater to the President of the United States’ party?” he demanded. “I thought maybe you’d at least dress as fancy as you did when you were serving terrorists dinner.”
Solomon ignored the statement and went into the dining room, Parks following close behind.
“What...is this?” Solomon asked as he picked up a large case off the table. “Is it a present?”
Parks snatched the case from his hands. “Oh no, you’re not going to mess with this. If anything happens to it, my head goes off. The Commandant will kick me out of the Marine Corps if this thing gets harmed.”
Solomon was perplexed. “You bought the President of the United States a case? Come on, KP, I thought you could do better than that.”
Parks wasn’t taking the bait. “You’re trying to make me tell you what’s in this case and I’m not going to. You’ll have to wait and see.”
Solomon strolled into the living room and spied a box. Without asking he pulled open the flaps and yanked out the object inside.
“No,” Parks exclaimed as he ran and grabbed at Solomon’s hand. “Don’t–”
The object was flung from Solomon’s hand and it went flying through the air and landed on the other side of the room. Parks winced and covered his face with his hands.
“An M&M machine,” Solomon said, running and skidding on his knees toward the fallen gift. He picked it up and looked it over.
Parks recovered himself and also walked up. “Actually it’s an M&M dispenser,” he corrected. “Is it broken?”
“Nope. Man, I always wanted a machine like this. Where’d you get it?”
“I had a hard time finding this kind of dispenser and when I did, all of them were made in China. Now you and I both know that I can’t give the President of the United States a present that was made in China. But if you look at that one, you’ll find it’s made in the United States of America. Just the way things should be.”
“So how’d you get this one?”
“I special ordered it.”
Solomon popped open the globe and took out the bag of chocolate-covered candies. “What a present. Can I have one?”
Parks stared at Solomon in utter shock. “What? Of course not. This isn’t for me it’s for the President. If you’re wondering why I bought him this, I’ll tell you. He loves M&Ms, and he’ll love this, believe me.”
“He’d better,” Solomon declared as he rose to his feet. “My little brother Charlie had one of these once and he’d never let me use it.”
“Charlie? How old is he?”
“Four, five, something like that,” Solomon explained as he set the globe back in the box. “My parents had me early and him late. It’s a long story.”
“Yeah like with your name. Anyway, I’ve got to get these gifts all situated and ready to go, then I’ve gotta cram myself into my blue-whites and get all fancied up. I hope my sword is still in good condition, last time I checked, it needed a good dusting.”
“Need a hand?” Solomon asked as he sealed the box. “I’ve got two right here.”
“No I think I’ve got it. Thanks just the same. Say, the rest of the guys are planning on coming aren’t they?”
Solomon glanced at the clock on the wall. “They’re coming.”
Parks went into the dining room and leaned on the table. “You came over here for something didn’t you? What is it?”
Solomon also entered the dining room and began whispering as if he didn’t want someone else to hear what he was saying. “I had a talk with the CIA Director on my way out of the office this afternoon. He’s been heading up the interrogation. He says vun Buvka won’t talk but the other guy will. His name’s Ghazi Siraj and he works for vun Buvka, right? Apparently he says that his team was planning on hitting San Antone but he persuaded them not to. He told the interrogators that he wanted to be done with terror operations and that he was playing with the idea of turning himself in.”
“Wait,” Parks asked, “how’d he convince his guys not to attack and why’d he want to be done with terrorism?”
Solomon lowered his voice even more. “Supposedly he got cold feet and decided he didn’t want to be on the suicide bomber list. I guess he persuaded his team not to try an attack by telling them they’d get caught and they needed to hide out for a bit.”
“How’d vun
Buvka get mixed up in this?”
“Don’t know that one yet. He’s not saying much about vun Buvka.”
Parks went into deep thought and silence fell over the two men for a moment.
“If we’re going to crack this code, then Siraj will be our helper, not vun Buvka,” Solomon finally concluded. “Vun Buvka’s got some willpower, and he won’t squeal.”
“Maybe not, but why waste our time with him when we’ve got Siraj? I’d sure like to talk to Siraj, and find out some things.”
Solomon leaned against a chair. “Like how they knew we were waiting for them? I’d like to know that too. Someone is at work here but I’d sure like to figure out their office number.”
Parks’ face went ashen.
“What?” Solomon pressed. “What’s wrong, KP?”
Parks retrieved the M&M dispenser box and shoved it into a gift bag. “Solomon,” he began, “when this stupid party’s over, I’m going to sit in my swivel chair and think things out.”
“Well great, but for now you’d better think about the time. It’s getting late and you need to get fancy.”
Parks nodded his head. “I suppose so. Hey, you want to drive with me to 8th and I?”
Solomon smiled. “Sure thing. Thanks a lot. I’ve got to run some errands but I’ll be back in about a half hour. Will you be ready by then?”
“Yup. See you then.”
47
Monday, April 14th – 1530 hours
Washington D.C.
Parks and Solomon were about five minutes from Marine Barracks 8th and I. Butterflies were already forming in Parks’ stomach and he was wishing he did not have to perform this mission.
“That’s a cool uniform, KP,” Solomon said, pointing at Parks’ blue-black uniform coat, white trousers, Sam Browne belt, and white leather gloves. “Almost makes me wish I was a Marine.”
Parks laughed. “There’s more to being a Marine than just a uniform, Solomon. I found that out real quick. When I was a kid I loved seeing my dad come home in his uniform. I promised I’d do the same thing when I grew up, and so I did. But there is a lot more to the Marine Corps than uniforms, medals, and ribbons.”