by C. G. Cooper
Everyone in the room took a moment to digest Travis’s declaration, obviously a surprise by the looks on everyone’s faces.
Vice President Southgate took a measured sip of his tea and said, “First, let me say that I agree with Mr. Haden. We’ve given away too much power, to China especially, and I fear that if we go at the same pace, they, and others, may one day have all the incentive they need to take over control of our country. Second, although I agree with the recommendation, I’m not sure we’re ready for it. Do not doubt that the reaction will be swift and furious. Americans will beat down our doors and call us thieves in the night. That’s one problem. The second, one I believe more detrimental, is the fact that we as politicians do a poor job managing the money we’re given.” Southgate looked across at Travis. “Yes, Mr. Haden, I know you may be shocked to hear me say that, but I’ve been in Washington long enough to know that government may not be the best solution to all of America’s woes. That being said, I still think we should take a hard look at Mr. Tollis’s proposal.”
It was like Southgate had admitted to being a woman. Zimmer found it hard not to stare at the old senator. To those in the know, it was fairly common knowledge that politicians spent money faster than a gambling addict in Vegas, but to say it out loud, and by a veteran former-senator no less, was quite the revelation.
Travis coughed to keep from laughing. Gen. McMillan rubbed his hands together. Secretary of State Dryburgh stared out the window. President Zimmer took it all in, the recommendations sound, but not quite what he’d expected. It didn’t matter. He felt different than he had for months. Whether it was the fact that an insidious drug no longer coursed through his veins or that he’d come to grips with his new position, President Brandon Zimmer would not sit by and watch a foreign power bully his beloved country.
“Okay, gentlemen, let’s come up with a plan.”
Chapter 45
The White House
6:55 p.m., March 9th
It was determined that they should adjourn until morning. They still had time to decide, and would reconvene at 6:00 a.m. Vice President Southgate volunteered to deliver the news to the rest of the cabinet. Dryburgh and McMillan both said their goodbyes and left, each heading back to their respective offices.
That left the President alone in the Oval Office with Travis. After the excitement of the day, they were happy to take a much-needed load off. Zimmer loosened his tie while Travis took off his navy blue suit jacket and tossed it onto the back of the couch. He looked to his boss. “Would you think less of me if I ordered a glass of bourbon?”
“Only if you don’t get one for me.”
They waited for their drinks to arrive, purposefully talking about things other than business, knowing that they’d have another long day ahead of them. Round and round was the game of politics played.
After a couple healthy swigs from their bourbons, they turned back to the task at hand.
“How about Southgate coming out of left field?” asked Travis. “My eyes almost popped out of my head.”
“It may still be too early to say this, but I think Southgate’s coming around. Fingers crossed that he’s seen the error of his ways, and God willing, understands that he is not infallible.”
“I would not have believed it in a million years. You really pulled a rabbit out of your hat when you asked him to be your number two. Shit, I thought you were crazy.”
Zimmer laughed. “Maybe I was!”
Travis almost spit out the drink in his mouth. “Jesus.”
Zimmer laughed louder as Travis tried not to let the burning liquid come out of his nose, pinching it with two fingers. “You okay?”
Travis nodded, wincing. “Damn. You got me there.” He shook his head, clearing the pain, and then took another careful sip. “You have an idea of where you want to take this whole Russia thing?”
Zimmer did. His mind had conceived an option during the hours of listening to his advisors and their guests. It was so clear. He wondered if that’s what had happened to Kennedy during the Cuban missile crisis, or Reagan during the Iran-Contra affair.
“I think so.”
The look on Zimmer’s face made Travis cock his head. “You look like you’ve got your mind made up. What is it?”
“Let me sleep on it, possibly with the help of one more of these.” The president lifted up his empty cocktail and nodded for another.
+++
Dryburgh stomped into his office, ignoring the call from his secretary who asked if he needed anything before she left for the day. Closing his door behind him, he flung his winter coat across the room, pumping his arm in exultation. He was so close. The President was bending just the way he wanted. He could’ve kissed Haden for what he’d said over dinner. Dryburgh had planned on the former CEO being one of his biggest hurdles.
On the other hand, in his excitement he’d wanted to reach over for the Vice President’s neck and strangle him. He would’ve thought the classic liberal to be 100% on-board for taxing the American people. Something had changed with Southgate. He was still the ornery old eccentric, but now he looked almost like a team player, a fact that completely baffled Dryburgh. Not a week earlier it had been Southgate who’d given him the information on the President’s collusion with Haden and his associates. He had no idea what had changed, but it didn’t sit well with the bold Secretary of State. He hadn’t risen as far as he had without knowing everything about his friends and enemies alike.
But he didn’t think it would matter. He had the president’s attention. With that, along with the help of a few outside forces, he wouldn’t have to do a thing. President Zimmer would bring about his own undoing, leaving one man in the perfect position to take over the presidency: Geoffrey Dryburgh.
+++
Congressman McKnight didn’t like the silence. He’d always equated the lack of noise to some impending doom. As a child it was his father’s return from another rathole, reeking of cheap whiskey, staggering in, demanding this and that from his wife, inevitably ending with a thorough beating.
So as he sat in his office, the last one there, with no noise, not even his usually buzzing phone, his mind started to wander, his heartbeat ticking faster. He stood up suddenly, nearly knocking over the glass of water on his paper-scattered desk. Grabbing it just in time, saving the paperwork he’d finally gotten from the Secret Service concerning the untimely death of Santos Lockwood. They’d determined the cause of death to be a massive heart attack. Instant death. Damn him.
Without Lockwood’s updates, he was effectively blind to the goings-on at the White House. The good news was that not a word had been said to him about his involvement. They had, however, made the connection with the Russian scientist. McKnight imagined it was only a matter of time before the black market capitalist was nabbed by a few commandos and whisked to an undisclosed location for interrogation.
With his involvement not even on the radar, McKnight could focus on just how he wanted to exploit the President’s weaknesses. Until he could get another mole inside the White House, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to back off and regroup. Besides, he had Santos’s mother to deal with. Maybe he could somehow convince the Secret Service to expedite transporting Lockwood’s remains home. Until then, he was stuck consoling the grieving widow. Six phones calls that day. He couldn’t take much more of it. His capacity for empathy was waning quickly.
He had to get back to the task at hand, namely how to further discredit the President, and by doing so, any other contenders in the Democratic Party. The American people had to first come to the conclusion that their votes must lean right. It was already happening in congressional districts across the country. The next logical step was the White House.
Even though the presidential primaries were still years away, there were steps to take, donors to align, plans to be made. In some circles he was becoming a contender. The voice of the new Republican Party. That’s what they were calling him. There was much to do, but McKnight had faith in his abiliti
es. In three years it would be him sitting in the Oval Office, commanding the attention of the world, and finally showing his father that he could be somebody.
Chapter 46
The White House
5:05 a.m., March 10th
Travis nodded to the agent outside the door, and entered the Oval Office. The lights were dimmed and the fire wasn’t lit. For a moment he wasn’t sure if the President was even there until the chair behind the large desk swiveled around.
President Zimmer was already dressed in what he’d told Travis was his ‘presidential’ attire, a navy suit, robin’s egg shirt and a blood red tie patterned with tiny impressions of George Washington, impossible to pick up unless you looked very closely.
“You look like you’re ready to go on television,” Travis joked, making his way to one of the chairs on the opposite side of the President’s desk.
“I am,” said Zimmer, not a hint of play in his countenance, unwaveringly determined.
Travis glanced at his watch in confusion. “I’m sorry, did I forget about something? I thought--”
“Change of plans. I’m going on at six thirty.”
A feeling of dread crept into Travis’s stomach. He didn’t sit down. “What’s the occasion?”
There was something in Zimmer’s eyes that reminded Travis of one of his SEAL instructors, a command master chief everyone called Old Smokey. The man constantly puffed on a cigar or had it jammed in the corner of his mouth. He had a way of glaring at you that made you believe he would have his way, no matter the price.
“I thought a lot about this whole debacle last night and I realized the answer was sitting right in front of me, plain as day.”
“Would you like to tell me what that is?” The unease subsided somewhat, Travis getting a feel for his boss’s vibe. It was like a commander who suddenly saw the weakness in the enemy’s defenses. Exploit it.
Zimmer chuckled, his eyes still cold. “I took for granted the power of this office. I was so worried about not making waves that I forgot what my job was. That ends today.”
“And you’re going to do that by…”
This time there was a genuine smile on the President’s face. It drew Travis in and even made him take a seat, wanting, no, needing to know where Zimmer was heading.
“I learned it from you and Cal. Overwhelming force, right?”
Travis nodded, still not understanding.
“You said yourself the only thing the Russians and the Chinese respect is force. Well, I’m about to give them some.”
+++
6:30 a.m.
Paul Dowse was a first year reporter with the Washington Times. He’d been pulling an all-nighter when his boss called from home ordering him to The White House. Paul had luckily been one of the first to arrive, snagging a seat in the second row, the first being saved for the craggy veteran reporters who always seemed to get their questions answered. He’d never been to a White House briefing, so everything felt alive despite the bored looks on the faces of the tired camera crews and the other reporters straggling in. No one knew what the President was going to say, but that didn’t mean it was going to be big news. Zimmer could just be using the early time slot as practice for the future. He’d been shy with the media up until that point.
The news conference was so last minute that only half of the normal press corps were present as the President took the stage, grim as he walked up to the podium. Behind him streamed his new Chief of Staff, the Vice President, Secretary of State Dryburgh and Gen. McMillan. Paul leaned over and nudged the reporter next to him, a balding guy with coffee breath and hair coming out of his ear.
“You know what this is about?”
The man looked at him like he was an idiot. “No.”
Paul wanted to tell the man to chill the fuck out, but the President began.
“Fellow Americans, I come before you today with news of another threat to our national security.”
The room perked up, all eyes now focused on the podium.
“Two days ago, we received word from our friends in Russia. I use the term friends loosely in this case.”
Paul started scribbling in his notepad, wanting to get the best tidbits, a feeling that this was to be a momentous speech.
“The communication was brief, but firm. Despite our years of friendship and untold billions of aid, Russia has now decided to cash in, to call all the U.S. debt it holds. Not only that, they have also convinced certain other countries, who will for now remain nameless, to do the same.”
The air left the room. Reporters leaned forward, some with recorders outstretched, wanting to capture every word.
“Russia has given us the ultimatum to pay back the investments they made in good faith, and that we provided in kind, in seventy-two hours.” Zimmer looked directly in the main camera, his eyes burning, more determined than the young reporter had ever seen him. “While this may come as a shock to most of you, it is, in fact, within Russia’s right to cash in its chips, to step away from the table.”
Zimmer smiled, still staring at the camera. “Fellow Americans, I’ve come to you with a solution, a way to reconsolidate all federal debt back to the United States, so that we will no longer be bullied by our supposed friends across the sea. As soon as I leave this room, and with the help of the Vice President and the Cabinet, I will be sending an emergency bill to the House floor. The summarized details will be released to media outlets and posted on The White House website within the hour. The American Investment Initiative will be voted on before the close of business today. If your elected officials cannot come to a consensus, I will institute my plan through the executive powers given to me by the Constitution of the United States. I hope it will not come to that. Now, this may not seem like the best deal for you, but trust me when I say that in the long run, it will make us stronger and less dependent on foreign money. If the international community no longer feels we are a good investment, we will take that investment back. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and this is one of those times. But out of this ordeal shines brilliant opportunity. An economic opportunity we have not had in over one-hundred years. We will once again show the world that we value our friendships, but that we will not be bullied.”
Travis caught up to the President as he left the shouting reporters in the briefing room. It was like he’d said they’d just had another 9/11 or dropped an atomic bomb on Nagasaki. Utter chaos as the President’s men filed out behind him.
“You sure that was the best idea?” Travis whispered to the President. He’d known the gist of what Zimmer was going to say, but hearing it said out loud had taken every ounce of self-control he had not to show surprise.
Zimmer nodded, walking purposefully down the hallway. “Just wait. I’m sure the phone calls will be coming in now.”
The President was right. Ellen was in a frenzy when they neared the Oval Office. She looked up, flashing lights blinking up and down on the two phones on her desk. “Mr. President, I…”
President Zimmer walked over to the faithful public servant and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Take a deep breath, Ellen.”
“But all these calls, I don’t know--”
“Tell them all that I’m unavailable and will return their calls as soon as I can.” He smiled at her reassuringly. She tried her best to nod, but instead turned back to the blinking wrath.
Travis felt sorry for her. It was going to be a long day for the White House staff.
+++
By 7 a.m. every major stock exchange in the world was closed. By 7:15 a.m., almost every world leader was in a closed meeting with their closest advisors.
The Russians were in a state of shock. Troops had to be called into Moscow to close down main thoroughfares. Thousands were making their way to the capital on foot as the Kremlin braced itself.
In one fell swoop, President Zimmer had exposed Russia’s plan and enraged the rest of the world to such a level that presidents, prime ministers, bankers, CEOs and world cit
izens were all looking to Russia for an explanation. As was their way, instead of responding immediately, Russia closed its gates, letting the mobs grow, becoming more mobilized by the minute.
By 7:30 a.m. the entire world had heard the details of Zimmer’s plan. The American government would tax all U.S. retirement plans at ninety-percent, giving them more than enough cash to recall all forms of investment, not only held in foreign hands, but also held within the United States. The next step would be to reissue higher interest bonds and treasury bills only to Americans, at a reduced rate, of course.
There was no telling how long markets would be shuttered. The impact of the news had been deafening, like a thousand explosions going off all over the world.
Through it all, President Zimmer stayed in the Oval Office, monitoring the news with his Chief of Staff and Vice President Southgate. Few words were said, and no advice was given. His men knew America’s card had been played and that it would only be a matter of time before they got an answer.
Chapter 47
New York City, New York
8:19 a.m., March 10th
The helicopter landed softly on the rooftop pad, kicking up swirls of snow in the process and making Cal, Daniel and Trent shield their eyes. They hadn’t waited long, the pilot making good time despite the airspace traffic.
The side hatch eased open, the passenger careful not to let the draft slam it forward. After leaning over to say something to the pilot, the man closed the door and made his way to the waiting three.
Cal stuck out his hand as the helicopter pilot applied power and lifted the bird back into the sky, away in seconds.
“Mr. Layton, I’m Cal Stokes. These are my associates, Daniel Briggs and Willy Trent.”
Jonas Layton shook Cal’s hand. “Please, call me Jonas.”