Covenant - THE CONTROLLER 01

by Jerry Bruce

  “I hope you are jotting all this down in your little notebook, Richard. Just be sure to underline the word ‘resolve,’ for that is the one word you need to remember. I will let nothing come between me and my goals.”

  “How do you know about my notebook?” Richard’s composure was weakening.

  “I know everything about you, Richard. Now that I have your attention, let me give you some insight into the purpose of our partnership. I think you may be surprised. It is not my desire to have you cooperate as if you are being held hostage. It is my hope that we can move beyond the adversarial, to a relationship of mutual respect. I chose to support you because you are an intelligent and caring leader. My motives are honorable and worthy of your support.”

  “What? How can you call me intelligent at the same time you are assuming I’m dumb enough to buy this drivel?” Richard could contain himself no longer. “I have no intention of letting you blackmail the office of the President of the United States.”

  “Richard, have you not heard one word I’ve said? I am not blackmailing you, I don’t have to; I am in charge. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to exert my authority to get you to understand the situation, but apparently you are going to require proof. Very well, Richard, it’s time now for you to face your first crisis as president. I will be back in touch with you shortly.”

  Before Richard could respond, the phone went silent and the connection was lost.

  Richard thought over what the Controller had to say. His memory took him back to the campaign and the question of support that was weighing on Stephen and him. It seemed that Stephen’s scenario of a benefactor asking for payback might be coming true. He deduced that anyone capable of influencing an election was equally capable of carrying out the threats he brandished. Richard couldn’t help but focus on the word “crisis.” He wondered what the Controller meant by that reference.

  * * *

  “Adam, I have a task for you. Secrecy is of the utmost importance. I can’t tell you why I am asking, but I want you to trace this phone number for me.” Richard handed a slip of paper to Adam with the Controller’s phone number.

  “If it’s so secret, am I limited to the resources I can use?”

  “Use any resource you wish, just don’t tell them where you got the number. And I need this yesterday.”

  “Will do, Mr. President, I’ll have it for you first thing in the morning.” With that, Adam left the Oval Office with more questions than answers. He went to his office and called a contact he had at the FBI, a young and ambitious agent who would do anything for someone in a position to advance his career.

  “I don’t care if you have to work all night, just get me the information by eight a.m.”

  * * *

  “What do you mean you can’t tell me who it belongs to?” Adam was not pleased and his voice reflected his displeasure.

  “I’ve tried everything, sir. There is no record of this number ever being established. I can call it and the call goes through but it’s terminated at the other end immediately. There is probably an automated, incoming number screening program that only allows predetermined numbers into the system.”

  “So you’re telling me that there is no way I can get any idea as to the identity of this number’s owner or its location?”

  “The only possibility would be a trace, if we could maintain a connection for a minute or more. But, to do so would mean calling from a number that the screening program recognizes. I would be willing to bet even that would be a dead end. You see, sir, there are ways to route calls through so many switching stations that it’s virtually impossible to trace.”

  “So there is nothing you can do?” Adam was irate and that fact was perfectly clear to the person at the other end of the line.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Broderick, but I’ve exhausted all avenues.”

  * * *

  Adam had made a promise to the president that he couldn’t fulfill and now he had to face the man and admit failure. “Sorry for the bad news, Mr. President.”

  “It’s okay, Adam. I thought it might be a fruitless attempt, but I wanted to give it a try. Don’t worry about it.” Richard sighed heavily enough that Adam couldn’t help but notice.

  Just then there was an urgent knock on the door and Mrs. Williams entered without waiting for acknowledgment. “Mr. President, CIA Director Thornton is here and insists he must speak with you immediately.”

  “Very well, send him in, Mrs. Williams.”

  Charles Thornton was an imposing man. He always stopped conversations when he entered a room simply because his size demanded attention. A former all-American out of Purdue, he had been pursued by all the pro teams who wanted a six-foot-seven-inch, 300-pound linebacker with incredible speed. But that was not the course he wanted to pursue. He had majored in criminology and studied foreign affairs with the goal of getting a position with the FBI. Instead, he was recruited by the CIA and his career prospered due to his diligence and hard work. He rose through the ranks through ability and not politics, a fact that hadn’t escaped Richard’s scrutiny.

  “Charles, what can I do for you?”

  Thornton cast a glance toward Adam, and then back to the president.

  “I don’t have any secrets from my chief of staff, Charles. What’s on your mind?”

  “Mr. President, we have a situation. There has been an assassination attempt against French President LeClerc.”

  “Is he all right?”

  “We have no way of knowing, sir.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’re out of the loop on this. You see, Mr. President, we—the CIA—are being blamed. There has been a total lockout of all but the few people closest to LeClerc.”

  “Why are we being blamed? We didn’t have anything to do with this, did we?” Adam looked at Thornton and Richard in rapid succession.

  “No, of course not,” Thornton was quick to reply. “At this point we can assume only that someone or some faction is blaming us so as to cause a rift between our two countries. But it gets worse; it seems as though one of our overt agents was caught in the vicinity carrying a weapon. I called his office and they confirmed that he was responding to a request for a meeting with a French peer at the same location. No one in his office knows the reason for the meeting. He is being held for questioning and the French won’t allow us to talk to him.”

  “France has been resistant to the concept of a world trade consortium, and it’s no secret that we were planning to meet with them in the hope of changing their position,” Richard speculated. “We need to act immediately once we have official notification that our agent is being charged with this. We need to get the word out that we had nothing to do with this, and that our agent was not a rogue acting on his own. This must be defused as soon as possible.”

  “I already have people working on this at both ends, Mr. President. We will notify you as soon as we have something definite to report.”

  “Thanks, Charles, and I want to know everything about this agent of ours. Let’s make sure he didn’t go off like a loose cannon. Adam, see what you can find out about the condition of President LeClerc.”

  After Adam and Thornton left, Richard walked to the French doors, opened them, and stepped out onto the portico. Two Secret Service agents flanking the doors immediately raised their level of attentiveness. They hadn’t been expecting the president to come outside considering the cold wind that was chilling them to the bone. One of the agents offered the president his overcoat.

  “No, thank you, John. I’ll only be a minute. I just wanted a breath of fresh air.” With that Richard turned to look over the White House grounds, covered with snow. He took a deep breath then exhaled loudly. After a second deep breath, the president went back inside, his head no clearer than before. He hoped that there was a logical explanation why a CIA agent was in the vicinity of an assassination attempt. He hoped even more that the French would realize that the United States was not involved. He didn’t need an internatio
nal incident disrupting his first few days in office.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Richard tossed and turned half the night, unable to come to grips with the LeClerc situation. He had learned over the years that if he thought over every detail of a problem, every known fact, and committed them to memory, once he went to sleep his subconscious, would continue working toward a solution. Once his subconscious solved the problem or produced new facts, it would awaken his conscious mind and reveal the results. The only fallacy of this system was that it required him to sleep, and on this night, that was proving to be impossible.

  Even without the involvement of the CIA, this was a touchy situation. LeClerc was a key player, and France a vital component, in Richard’s plans for a world economy. Richard wasn’t too fond of the French president, considering him aloof and pompous. His mien was all the more inappropriate when one looked at France’s economic situation. LeClerc should have been beating down the White House doors trying to get onboard, such would be the benefits to his country. Instead he postured at every opportunity, as though without France there could be no accord. Although Richard wanted France as a willing and enthusiastic partner that could assist in winning over other nations, he had other plans in mind that could accomplish the same results should he find his back to the wall. However, he was afraid that some parties might give ready credence to the CIA hypothesis and use it to gain support for an anti American stance. This situation was going to necessitate that he come up with a convincing argument as to why it wouldn’t be in America’s best interests to alienate France.

  After repeated attempts to get more than a few minutes sleep at a time, he decided to get up and go to the office. Maybe there he could be productive and not feel so ineffectual.

  * * *

  Seven a.m. and Richard was just finishing reviewing some briefs when the synthetically tonal “Hail To The Chief” drew his attention to the cell phone he had left in his desk drawer.

  “You are going to have to get used to keeping this instrument on your person at all times, Richard.” The voice was all too familiar. “It is quite disconcerting to me that you do not attach enough importance to our relationship to keep the phone at your side.”

  “How do you know what I am or am not doing?” The edge to Richard’s voice cut right to the quick.

  “I assure you, Richard, I have my ways. But enough idle banter. From now on you will be available at seven a.m. every morning for my calls. I think this is the best time for us to conduct our business, before the busy President Sinclair rushes off to tend to the affairs of state.” There was a slight hint of sarcasm in the Controller’s voice. Richard was so used to the unemotional voice that he missed the intonation entirely.

  “What if that isn’t convenient for me?” Richard’s voice was now quite testy.

  “I am fully aware that you prefer to be in your office, at work by seven. I am sure you wouldn’t appreciate my calling you at six a.m., a time at which I am already fully engrossed in conducting my business. Now then, I alluded to you during our last conversation that there would be a crisis that would require your attention. I trust by now that you realize the LeClerc problem was not the responsibility of your CIA, but of yours truly. And you no doubt have been laboring over the solution to this problem, to no avail. Rest assured that I could put this matter to bed just as easily as I created it.”

  “You expect me to believe that you are behind this? I think you’re just trying to capitalize on the situation by making me think you are the responsible party.” Richard was not convinced the Controller had anything to do with the assassination attempt.

  “So, you still doubt me. That is very unfortunate. Not for you, Richard, but for the French president. You see it was made to look like an assassination that failed, as I had no reason to have LeClerc eliminated. This was simply for your benefit. Now, however, you tell me I wasted my time. Pity that. Let me see, how can I convince you? I know, I will arrange for LeClerc to be assassinated again. And this time he will die. I think I also will see to it that the CIA agent purported to be the culprit commits suicide, leaving behind a most incriminating note. Do you think that you will believe in me then, Richard?”

  “You’re insane.”

  “That is a very poor choice of words. And you are trying my patience, Richard. I will call you after the deeds are done, and then I will expect your complete cooperation.” The resolve in his voice sent a chill up Richard’s spine.

  “Wait a minute. There’s no need for more violence. Surely we can work this out.”

  “No, Richard I gave you a chance to capitulate and you chose instead to insult me; you still have some doubt about me and I intend to dispel that so we can move on. I cannot have you underestimating me. If those two men need to perish to convince you, then so be it.” With that last statement, the Controller ended the call.

  Richard was almost completely positive that he had heard the last of the Controller. Surely this madman had come to the end of his rope. He couldn’t possibly be all that he claimed.

  * * *

  Several days passed since Richard’s talk with the Controller. He had learned nothing new about the status of President LeClerc or the CIA agent being held. He regretted now that his predecessor authorized the use of CIA personnel in France as guests of the French government on a temporary assignment to work with French intelligence. Their mission was to help the French identify the parties responsible for a bombing at an aircraft assembly plant. The agencies suspected the involvement of a Middle Eastern terrorist group. France had been supplying some of the latest Mirage fighter-bombers to Jordan and Syria, and this was not a popular decision. The United States had officially renounced the sale and tried to convince France that it could be treading deep water, but LeClerc needed some big foreign contracts for arms and durable goods to strengthen his economy.

  The idea of the French president being assassinated caused Richard to weigh what his options might be in light of who might replace LeClerc. There really were only two candidates: one, Francois Bourdais, was known to be commiserating with American policy; the other, Michel Arnoux, was more like LeClerc, maybe even more anti American than LeClerc. Bourdais was considerably less popular with the working class French, whereas Arnoux was trying to hold on to past anti American sentiment by blaming the United States for all of France’s ills. Richard was convinced that Arnoux would probably win out in the end, even though Bourdais’s approach was more grassroots and could reduce unemployment, currently a raging wildfire in France, in a much shorter time span. With an almost constant stream of demonstrations by unemployed French workers, it was becoming more obvious that a workers revolt was fast approaching. Arnoux would be too busy putting out fires to be of any help to Richard. No, Richard would have to assume a lack of cooperation from the French if Arnoux was installed.

  * * *

  “Right on time” Richard mumbled as he looked at his desk clock, “7 a.m. on the dot.” Richard pushed the “talk” button on the cell phone. “Yes?”

  “Well, Richard, after a great deal of thought, I have decided to spare LeClerc and your CIA operative. I assure you it was strictly for selfish reasons. I would have had to spend much more time breaking in a new French president than I am willing to do at this time. So, instead I have reconciled matters with LeClerc and you can expect a phone call from him this morning. I think you will be pleased with what he has to say, and I’m sure you will realize that I am solely responsible for his change of attitude. I then fully expect you to believe in me so that we can proceed beyond this foolish game of cat and mouse. I will contact you later today and we will discuss our future—our great adventure.”

  Before Richard could respond, the phone went silent. Just a moment later, there was a knock on his door, followed immediately by the entrance of Adam Broderick.

  “You’re not going to believe this, Mr. President.” Adam could hardly contain himself. “Our CIA guy has just been released. He contacted his field office a few minutes ago.
It seems that the French have exonerated him of any complicity in the assassination attempt.” Adam couldn’t help but notice the expression on Richard’s face, as though he had just seen a ghost. “Are you all right, Mr. President? Is something wrong?”

  “I’m just astonished at the news.” Richard slouched in his chair and limply motioned Adam to have a seat.

  “I know what you mean. I can’t believe the French didn’t milk this for all they could. What do you suppose made them change their minds?”

  “I can’t imagine,” Richard responded halfheartedly. “I do know one thing, Adam; I want you to see to it that our agent is thoroughly debriefed. And I mean thoroughly. I want to know every detail of every minute that this guy has lived for the past few weeks. Don’t leave anything out, no matter how insignificant it may seem. Do you understand?”

  “Completely, Mr. President, I’ll get on it right away.” With that Adam rose and left the room closing the door behind him.

  Richard wanted to just consider and digest all that happened in the last hour, but his schedule didn’t afford him the luxury. He had to compose himself for his daily update on threats to the nation. The Threat Matrix, as it is known, is a simple spreadsheet that lists all known security concerns, who is behind them, how serious they seem, who in the government or military is taking action, what action could be taken, and when the threat should be neutralized. He wondered for an instance if maybe there was a threat that wasn’t on the list, one only he could deal with.

  Nothing had changed since yesterday’s update, so it was a short briefing, much to the satisfaction of the president. He wasn’t his usual question asking self, firing off one query after another, and everyone noticed. He summarily dismissed them after the last report and asked Mrs. Williams to bring him some fresh coffee.