by Mike Gilmore
Leonard quietly cleared his throat to announce he was ready to begin. Barbara had her pen ready. “We will start with the largest donors in the manufacturing sectors. Automotive, electronics, and energy. Of course we must not forget any other big business either here in the United States or outside our borders.” The sixty-five year old man, slender in build, with wavy brown hair streaked with gray, spoke calmly. His skin tone still held his summer tan from months of playing golf. He projected a look of competence and calm authority.
“The president’s plan failed completely, and now he has isolated big business from supporting his reelection plans. It will never be a better time to enter the race for the Republican nomination.”
He looked at the beautiful woman. There was no physical relationship between the two. They had worked together for some years when he was speaker of the House. They had made a great team during their time together in the lower chamber in Congress and would do so again after Leonard’s election to the White House.
“You will be my official campaign manager, but always check with Harry before you make any major decisions.” Harry was Leonard’s younger brother and current governor of Michigan.
“Once we are in the White House, you will be my chief of staff once again.”
Barbara Harrison displayed her very white teeth at the prospect of working again in the White House. Until a few months ago, she had been assistant White House chief of staff. A mistake on her part during the confirmation process for the chief justice of the Supreme Court had caused the president serious embarrassment. It had been very embarrassing personally when she cleaned out her desk under the watchful eyes of Secret Service agents. Leonard Graham would be her ticket back into power.
“Your papers are ready for the Iowa caucuses?”
Leonard smiled back to his beautiful assistant. “Absolutely. They will be filed tomorrow.”
Leonard Graham had lost the bid for the Republican Party nomination in 2012 to Harold Miller. He would not lose this time.
Chapter 60
Galveston Island, TX
Friday, December 4, 2015
Noon CST
Former Vice President of the United States Jerrod Wyman tossed the television remote control onto the round glass-top table on the patio overlooking the Gulf of Mexico. A tiled roof extended from his house and provided enough shade to see the CNN logo fade away on the screen. He had watched enough of the news network’s coverage of the Senate and the terrorist attack in London.
The former vice president and former governor of Texas looked over at his lunch companion. Pamela Collins had been his chief of staff in the Texas state government and followed him to Washington, DC, when he was the vice president under Harold Miller. He had resigned his position immediately after the midterm elections over disputes with the president over the illegal immigration bill and border security bill introduced into Congress in 2014.
Wyman was in his midfifties, with thick, prematurely gray hair. His waistline was flat, his shoulders wide, and his teeth were perfect. Many people claimed he looked like the perfect Texas cowboy.
Pamela was in her midthirties, with long black hair and a slender body that came to the shoulders of six-foot-one Wyman. He thought her slightly upturned nose was cute. They had become lovers during his second term as governor and had kept their relationship secret throughout their time together in Washington. No doubt, the Secret Service agents knew about the affair, but they kept what they saw and heard to themselves. Pamela was still married to a Texas state senator, but they had no children. Wyman was divorced long ago and childless. Together they made a great political team.
“Miller blew it,” Wyman said as he looked over toward Pamela. She was dressed for a swim in the Gulf, but he knew she would only walk along the water’s edge, allowing only her feet and ankles to get wet. She hated the water when the temperature dropped below seventy degrees.
Pamela picked up the brown folder lying on the table, flipped the cover open to reveal the several sheets of papers inside, and neatly typed lines of information. It was her checklist of things done and things to do. Most of the items were marked completed.
“We’re all ready for your press announcement on Monday. I have given the campaign press manager his news release. You should have full coverage when you step before the cameras. After that, we are off to Iowa, New Hampshire, South Carolina, and Florida. They all vote in January.” She flipped to the second sheet of paper in the thin file. “We’ve got a number of Republican governors waiting on the sidelines to endorse you and a full e-mail and social media campaign ready to go. The president will never know what hit him.”
Wyman looked out toward the waves rolling in onto the private beach along the width of his property. He possessed a net worth estimated at $4 billion dollars, and he was prepared to spend whatever was necessary to defeat Harold Miller for the Republican nomination.
“Miller thinks he’s only got Tom Evans to worry about.”
Chapter 61
Tehran, Iran
Monday, December 7, 2015
4:00 p.m. Coordinated Universal Time
The Elder poured the green herbal tea into his ceramic cup and dropped in a few small squares of sugar to mix with the blend. He looked outside his office. The sky was cloudy and a cold wind was blowing. He doubted the temperature would reach the projected high forties but was almost certain it would drop below freezing after the weak sun slipped below the horizon.
He picked up the report his people had compiled on their London operation. They had operatives in England, watching from afar and reporting what they had observed. All the information gathered from the news services was included in the report.
He was mildly disappointed in the operation. Their main target, to destroy the precious water supply to London and kill thousands of people, had failed to materialize. The damage to the confidence of the English people in their government to keep them safe would be cause for discussion for many months to come. The minor damage to Trafalgar Square was quickly repairable, but memories of those people gunned down after the explosion would linger for many years.
All five members of the team were dead, a loss, but it was better than if they had been captured and forced to talk. Besides, more followers, loyal to their cause, were waiting for the next opportunity to kill the British and the Americans.
He read the information learned from private sources about the American senator. Twice now, the man had foiled his operations. Was it just luck, or was Allah’s hand behind any of it? It would require prayer and contemplation on his part before they launched their next mission.
He had plenty of time to determine the fate of the American senator. His people were still getting the next mission organized, scheduled to take place shortly after the next American presidential election, when they hoped a new American government might be in place. The attack would have a better chance to succeed when the new government was in transition.
He pushed himself out of the old steel swivel chair and walked into the closet built against an inside wall of the building. A large floor safe filled most of the space. He worked the combination lock until he heard a faint click. He spun the handle with five steel spokes until it stopped and slowly pulled the heavy door open. Inside were many folders with lists of men and equipment. Others contained hand-drawn plans to bring the end to the Americans’ influence throughout the world. The Elder did not know if he would see the end of the Americans in his part of the world, but he took great solace in knowing that would happen with one of the many plans contained in the safe.
He removed the thickest folder, standing on its edge between two thin metal dividers on the right side of the second shelf. He turned back to his desk and sat down in his chair. He placed his old fingers against the outside of his teacup. The brew was still hot, and he took a full sip. Satisfied, he set the cup off to the right side of the desk and opened the folder�
�s cover. Across the top of the first page was the name he had selected for the operation. He thought it was very fitting for the complex web he planned to unleash on American soil.
In Arabic, it was Operation Scheherazade. One thousand and one tales to confuse the American intelligence system—but only one would be true.
Chapter 62
Washington, DC
Monday, December 7, 2015
7:45 a.m.
Senator Randy Fisher was dressed and ready to attend an early morning ceremony to commemorate Pearl Harbor Day. It was sad to think the Pearl Harbor Survivors Association had disbanded on December 31, 2012. The official ceremony, held for many years at the Pacific naval base, ended simply due to the ages and deteriorating heath of the men and women assigned to the beautiful island on that fateful morning in 1941.
Randy believed, along with millions of fellow Americans, the day should never be forgotten. Not that he or other Americans still held a hatred for the Japanese but because they should always learn from history. He had used the example of the Pearl Harbor attack to convince the people in the War Room that the attack on Trafalgar Square was a diversion and they needed to keep looking for the terrorists.
He stood near the back of the crowd, away from the large temporary stage at the World War II Memorial on the National Mall. At center stage, the secretary of defense and the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff conducted the quiet ceremony. Many senior officers from the various military branches were standing off to the side.
Randy looked around at the hundreds, perhaps thousands, of uniformed military personnel mixed among the many civilians who had come to pay their respects. Those who had served in the war made up a very small number; the number of actual survivors from Pearl Harbor, if any, was smaller still.
At 7:48 a.m., the official time when the Pearl Harbor air attack began, a bugler began to play “Taps.” The tune was sometimes called “Butterfield’s Lullaby” or the first line of the lyric, “Day is Done.” Stay vigilant! Never forget! The words roamed through Randy’s mind as he listened to the musical piece. Yes, he would stay vigilant, and so too would millions of other Americans. He silently vowed to never let another Pearl Harbor or 9-11 happen again while he drew breath.
At eight thirty, the ceremony concluded. He decided to walk the long distance back to the Capitol building. He could easily see it off in the distance past the Washington Monument.
The sun was shining brightly even though the air was cold, and a light breeze blew. He pulled the collar of his winter coat up higher to protect his neck from the cold. The long walk would do him good; he had only been out running once since he had returned home from London.
Would the US intelligence organizations, along with British counterparts and those of other friendly nations, discover more information that led them to the people behind the attacks in London and his own state of South Carolina? Randy was hopeful. He had great faith in his friend Marion Bellwood. Until then he would stay vigilant.
Author’s Notes
In 1993, in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, 880,000 citizens of the city’s 1.61 million residents were threatened by cryptosporidium oocysts from March 23 through April 8. It was the largest documented waterborne disease outbreak in United States history. The Howard Avenue Water Purification Plant was contaminated, and treated water showed turbidity levels well above normal.
Authorities have never officially identified the official root cause of the epidemic. Some experts suspected cattle genotype due to runoff from pastures were behind the outbreak. Another possibility was that melting ice and snow-carrying cryptosporidium may have entered the water-treatment plant through Lake Michigan. The Atlanta-based Center for Disease Control (CDC) determined the outbreak was caused by cryptosporidium oocysts that passed through the filtration system of one of the city’s two water-treatment plants. The material came from the discharge outlet of a sewage treatment plant two miles upstream in Lake Michigan.
Over the two-week span, an estimated 403,000 people became ill with stomach cramps, fever, diarrhea, and dehydration caused by the pathogen. At least 104 deaths resulted from the outbreak, mostly among the elderly and immuno-compromised people, such as AIDS patients.
The authorities closed the water-treatment plant after April 8, 1993.
Levels of Power
The
Vice President
Millions of Americans are closely following the presidential election process as President Harold Miller faces two late-entry challengers from his own party for the nomination at the upcoming Republican Convention.
Jerrod Wyman, former vice president, and Leonard Graham, former speaker of the House of Representatives, have drawn enough delegates away from Miller during the primary elections to force a contested convention. Miller finds himself in a fight for a second term. Will the pledged delegates stay with the embattled president during the convention, or must he make a deal with one of his opponents?
Democratic Senator Tom Evans has already locked up the votes needed for his nomination during the upcoming Democratic Convention in Baltimore. There is little doubt in his mind that South Carolina Senator Randy Fisher is the right man to be his running mate. Together, he is certain they can displace the sitting president.
All their plans appear to be working as they leave the Democratic Convention and make the run for the White House. The polls are showing a growing tide of support for the Democratic team. They appear to be unstoppable until an event never considered possible derails a perfectly planned campaign.
Levels of Power: The Vice President tells the behind-the-scenes story of politics at the highest level. The story will keep you turning pages to the very end.