by L. D Beyer
“We continue with our coverage of the crash of Air Force One. There is still no word on the status of President Kendall. Authorities tell us that search and rescue efforts have been difficult, due to the blizzard that has paralyzed Northern Idaho. We have learned that Air Force rescue crews expect a break in the weather today and hope to reach the crash site later this afternoon. The mood of those involved in emergency response is somber, and authorities have not commented on whether they believe there are any survivors, or on possible causes for the crash. One source, who remains anonymous because he is not authorized to speak about the accident, tells us it is unlikely that anyone could have survived. As a shocked nation waits for news on the fate of President Kendall, condolences and offers of support have poured in from around the world.
“While the focus has been on the president and those who were on board Air Force One, the storm has impacted thousands of residents in Idaho, Montana, and surrounding states. In Idaho, the governor has declared a State of Emergency and has mobilized the National Guard. Meanwhile, State Police have closed all major highways in north-central Idaho and are only allowing emergency and rescue vehicles through. Even with the closures, which were ordered by the Governor yesterday afternoon, many motorists have been stranded by the storm, particularly along sections of Route 90, Route 95, Route 93 and Route 12, where reports indicate snowdrifts up to eight feet deep. State Police estimate as many as five hundred vehicles remain stuck and crews have been working around the clock to reach an estimated eight hundred motorists and passengers who are still stranded.
“The National Guard and State Police are using military trucks and other heavy vehicles that can plow through the snow drifts. We now go live to Kevin Battaglia of affiliate K-DCH in Coeur d'Alene. What can you tell us, Kevin?”
Perry listened as the reporter in Coeur d'Alene, standing outside in the falling snow, rehashed the same facts as the CNN anchor. He switched the TV off. He had tried calling Rumson last night and again this morning. The news had said that he had been moved to an unnamed, secure location, and he assumed that Rumson was preoccupied with the crisis. That was understandable. He decided to give Rumson another day or two before he tried again.
____
Richter peered out between the branches of the tree. The snow had slowed to flurries, for the moment at least, but the grey skies threatened more. He could make out the steep slope of the mountain several hundred yards away. The top was hidden in the clouds. Somewhere behind the veil, he knew, he and the president had landed less than twenty-four hours ago.
He carefully let go of the branch. Something was nagging him. The president believed that Rumson was somehow behind the assassination attempt. But how were Mosby and Rumson connected? Rumson rarely acknowledged anyone below him unless it was to issue an order. Yet, hadn’t he seen the vice president and Mosby—several months back—sharing a quiet word outside the Oval Office? At the time, it had struck him as strange.
What did he know about Mosby? He had been a New Jersey State Trooper before he had joined the FBI. And then he…Richter paused as he suddenly remembered the picture. His pulse quickened. It had been six months ago. He had been in the command center, and Keith O’Rourke had been holding a magazine, something from twenty years earlier. O’Rourke had waved the magazine and laughed.
“Get a load of this!” he said.
Richter and two other agents had circled around the table. O’Rourke tapped the picture and Richter stared down at a much younger Cal Mosby. Wearing his Trooper uniform, he was standing at attention behind then State Senator Tyler Rumson. According to the caption, Rumson had been at a campaign stop in the middle of his bid to become a U.S. Senator. And Mosby had been there too, providing security for the rising star.
Where was Mosby now? Richter wondered.
____
Monahan stared out the window of the FBI-owned Gulfstream G550 and noticed the faint light of early morning. He sat back and shook his head. To say that this would be no easy task was an understatement. Running a criminal investigation with hundreds of competing agencies and departments, so many he had lost count, was going to be a Herculean challenge. Not that he was afraid of stepping on a few toes or bruising a few egos in the process. In his thirty-one years with the Bureau, he had done his share of that. With the limited information they had right now, they had to assume that the crash of Air Force One was the result of criminal or terrorist activity. And, as Broder had made crystal clear, that put the FBI in charge.
He checked his watch; two hours until they were scheduled to land in Portland. He glanced around the cabin noting the seven agents with him, each handpicked to assist him in this assignment. One hundred and sixty miles behind them was another plane, much larger than his Gulfstream, carrying another sixty-five agents. More would be following shortly.
He felt conflicted. On one hand, he was excited. This was, by far, the largest, most important case he and all of the agents with him would likely ever see in their careers. And he was in charge. And yet, that was precisely why he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling. With only three years to go until retirement, he had been hoping for a series of easy assignments during the twilight of his career. Now, who knew when he would see his wife or his family again? Or if he would even make it to retirement. He was a realist. The huge expectations, the tremendous responsibility, the stakes for the Bureau, and for the nation, were made very clear in Broder’s terse briefing.
“You’re in charge of this thing, Monahan. If you screw it up, I’ll bury you myself!”
____
As Jack ate his oatmeal, he studied Dave. He definitely looked like he lost a fight, Jack thought. One eye was swollen, not quite shut, an ugly purple bruise below. His chin and cheeks were a patchwork of nasty scratches. His lips were cracked and swollen. And with the bandage wrapped around his head, he looked like an extra for a low budget horror film. Still, even in the flickering light from the candle lantern, he was certain he had seen Dave before. It hadn’t occurred to him until they were both standing outside earlier.
It was more than his appearance, Jack realized. Dave seemed down to earth, and he had a sense of humor, but at the same time, he had a presence. He looked like a business executive. When he spoke, he conveyed confidence. Despite that, Dave wasn’t arrogant or condescending. He seemed to be humble and wasn’t afraid to ask for help.
On the other hand, Matt had the bearing of a soldier. Jack studied him for a moment. Even as he ate, Matt appeared on guard, pensive.
Dave coughed, and Matt turned, a concerned look on his face. Matt was very protective of Dave, Jack mused.
“So, what do you guys do for the Customs Department?” he asked.
Kendall nodded toward Richter. “Matt’s an agent. I’m just a bureaucrat.”
“You look very familiar.”
The president smiled. “You have no idea how many times I hear that. I guess I have one of those faces.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The snow concealed how devastating the crash was. The most obvious sign was the enormous crater where the forward section of the plane had struck the ground at over four hundred knots. This was where they began their search. Twenty-three hours after the crash, the winds had subsided to forty-five miles per hour and the snow, while still falling, was less than the blizzard conditions the area had experienced over the past thirty-six hours.
The Pave Hawk hovered as a team of ten PJs rappelled down to a spot three hundred yards to the side of the crater. Once they hit the ground, the Pave Hawk lowered several large bundles of equipment and supplies. The weather was expected to worsen, and it was questionable if the helicopter would be able to return at the end of the day. The PJs would likely spend the night on the mountain.
As soon as the first Pave Hawk began to climb away, the second Pave Hawk discharged its crew and their supplies. Once the helicopters withdrew, the commander on the ground, Lieutenant Germaine Jennings ordered the teams to transport the provisions to a more shelt
ered spot and to set up camp and a mobile command post. Although it was still morning, Jennings estimated they had six hours before nightfall, and he wanted to use as much of that time as possible.
____
Jack crawled back inside the cave and made his way to an open spot along the wall.
“According to my GPS, there’s a mine about one and a quarter miles from here.”
“Any chance it’s still operable?” Richter asked.
“No, I don’t think so. Most of the mines around here were shut down a long time ago. This one’s called the Old Parker-Baxter Mine. But,” he hesitated a moment, “I was thinking about this. There’s a chance that it might not be the type of mine you’re thinking of. You know, like a tunnel in a mountain with train tracks? This might be nothing more than a big hole in the ground; I think what they call a pit mine. There were a lot of those around here as well.”
Derek added, “Jack’s right. It could also be a panning operation if it’s located near a stream. They used to blast the side of the hill and wash the mud through a sluice. Really, there’s no way to tell without seeing it.”
Jack shook his head. “This one doesn’t look like it’s near a stream. Still, we might hike there and find out it’s not what we’re looking for.”
Richter digested that. “Okay, what about ranger stations?”
“The GPS says there’s one twelve miles southeast of us. Our car is thirteen miles west of us. The ranger station doesn’t make sense.”
Derek’s face brightened. “Hey, Jack. What about that old hunting shack we saw a while back?”
“Hunting shack?”
Jack nodded slowly. “I forgot about that.” He turned to Richter. “Derek and I saw an old cabin a few years ago. It was locked up, but we might be able to break in.”
“I think it was below Tamarack Saddle, just south of Sable Point. That’s west of us, on the way back to Elk City. What do you think, Jack? About three miles from here?”
“That sounds right, but I don’t think it shows up on any map. It was kind of strange to see it out here since this is all national forest. I don’t recall seeing any access roads near it. It might be an old prospector’s shack. Even though most of the mines were shut down in the 1920s or 1930s, people continued to search for gold over the years.” Jack rubbed his chin. “It might even be a poacher’s shack. Regardless, whoever owns it probably has to use an ATV or a snowmobile to get to it.”
“Or hike in like we did.”
Richter shifted his position. Even with the sleeping bag, the cold penetrated through the layers below, and his butt was sore. He glanced at the president who didn’t seem to mind. Could he make it three miles to the shack? Richter wondered. Maybe with the right gear, he thought as he looked back at the boys.
“Have you guys ever made snowshoes?”
Jack nodded, understanding. “I read about it in a survival book.”
Derek feigned surprise.
Ignoring the jab, Jack continued. “Mostly Boy Scout stuff. I’ve never made them myself, but I don’t think it would be too hard.”
____
“What do you think, Matt? Will this work?” Derek was in the door of the cave, holding two branches, both slightly longer than his six-foot frame.
“Let’s see.”
He started by stripping the smaller branches and needles off the main branch. When he was done, he had two pieces about six to seven feet long and a little over an inch thick at the base. Richter bent one of the branches until the two ends joined to form a large teardrop. He smiled. “I think these will work fine. We’ll need six more just like this.”
“No problem.” The boys crawled back outside.
Richter took the large, teardrop-shaped branch and, using nylon rope from the survival kit, tied the two ends together. Laying it on the ground, he placed four cross pieces, spaced two inches apart, over the frame. He bound these to the frame with the rope. Next, he wove several smaller branch segments front to back along the frame. He held it up again. It was about two and a half feet long and a little over one foot wide.
The president watched in amazement. “That’s ingenious. Think it will work?”
“I believe so. I’ll make another and we’ll test it first before we make a pair for each of us.”
They shared a smile, then Richter leaned the snowshoe against the wall. He glanced at the mouth of the cave. Jack and Derek should be a while, he thought. When he turned back to the president, his smile was gone.
“We have a bigger problem, sir.” He hesitated and glanced at the door again. “I think you might be right about Rumson. I think he and Cal Mosby are connected.” He relayed his suspicions and the connection going back to Rumson’s days as a state senator.
The president let out a breath then frowned. “He was also an FBI agent?”
Richter nodded. “For five or six years. Worked in Chicago and then Washington if I remember correctly.”
The president’s eyes narrowed. “Chicago? Wasn’t Emil Broder in charge of the Chicago office? Before he was named Deputy Director?”
Richter felt a prickle on the back of his neck. And when Broder moved to Washington, he thought, Mosby had come with him. Then, for some reason, fourteen or fifteen years ago, Mosby had moved over to the Secret Service while Broder eventually went on to become Director of the FBI.
“If Rumson cultivated a state trooper all those years ago,” Richter added, “who else might he have corrupted in the years since?”
He and the president shared a glance.
Shit!
____
“The Twenty-fifth Amendment to the Constitution addresses the transfer of power upon the president’s death, as in the case of President Walters, or upon the resignation of the president, as in the case of President Nixon, or upon the removal of the president, after impeachment for example, or when the president is deemed to be unable to discharge the powers and duties of his office. However, the amendment does not clarify this last point, on what exactly constitutes an inability to discharge the powers and duties of office.” Supreme Court Justice John Stanhope pointed toward the screen where examples of past successions were listed.
“For God’s sake, the man is dead. Isn’t it obvious? The vice president is now the president. All he needs to do is to take the oath of office.”
Justice Stanhope turned to the exasperated face of Senator Broussard.
“No. It’s not that clear cut, Senator. Under the amendment, for the president to be declared unfit to fulfill his duties, the president himself must declare so in a written declaration to the president pro tempore of the Senate and the Speaker of the House of Representatives. Alternatively, the amendment allows the vice president to declare the president unfit. In this case, the vice president and a majority of the principal officers of the executive departments, that is the President’s Cabinet, must submit a written declaration to the same two legislative leaders.”
“Okay, assuming that Rumson and the Cabinet were to submit this written declaration. What happens next?” the attorney general asked.
“The vice president would be authorized to serve as acting president.”
“Acting president? What exactly does that mean?”
“The amendment only envisioned that the vice president would need to serve in this capacity on a temporary basis. The president may resume the powers and duties of his office at a later date by submitting a written declaration stating that the disability no longer exists.”
Justice Stanhope paused for a second. “Gentlemen, ladies,” he said, looking around the room. “It is my suggestion that we use the provisions of the Twenty-fifth Amendment to temporarily transfer the duties and powers of the presidency to the vice president immediately.”
“But if President Kendall is dead?” Senator Broussard continued.
“We don’t know that definitively,” the attorney general stated. “From what I have been told, rescue crews are just reaching the crash site. No bodies have been recovered ye
t.” He paused for a moment. “I think that until…pardon me…if…keep in mind that people have survived plane crashes before…so, if and when we find the president’s body and he has been declared dead…until that time, David Kendall is still the president. Consequently, what we are talking about today is Vice President Rumson’s ability to act in the capacity of the president. Is that correct, Justice Stanhope?”
“I think that is the correct interpretation.”
The AG turned to the two people next to him. “Congressman Bolsh? Senator Pankin? Are you two okay with this approach?”
The Speaker of the House and the President Pro Tempore of the Senate responded that they were.
The AG looked up at the monitor, where Tyler Rumson was connected by video conference. Rumson nodded, his face somber.
“I’m on board, Ben.”
____
By the time they finished testing the four pairs of snowshoes, it was after three. With less than two hours of daylight left, they decided it was too late in the day to attempt the hike to the cabin.
Richter and Jack spent the rest of the daylight hours fashioning ski poles from pine branches. They filled their water bottles and, as the sun began to set, they sat inside the cave and discussed their plans.
“Matt, we’re going to have to make you guys some coats or something to keep you warm during the hike,” Derek said.
“I’ve been thinking about that. We could rig up some make-shift ponchos using the thermal blankets, the sleeping bags, and the rope.”
“Yeah, that might work. You’ll need hats and gloves too. I have an extra long-sleeved shirt that you can use as a hat. You can wrap it around your head and use the sleeves to tie it on like a bandana.”
Jack added, “I have an extra shirt too. And some extra wool socks that you can use as mittens.”
____
“Ladies and gentlemen. Fellow Americans. It is with profound sadness and pain that I address you tonight. As you know by now, President Kendall’s plane crashed yesterday in a remote, mountainous region of Idaho. As you also know, this area has suffered severe winter storms, and rescue efforts have been hampered. Search and rescue teams have been mobilized, and I’m told that they have only recently been able to reach the crash site. We have no word yet on the president’s condition.”