Covenant - THE CONTROLLER 01

by Jerry Bruce

  “So, are you telling me that you were responsible for the explosion?”

  “Most definitely. I told you that I have to protect my investment. I have no intention of letting some miscreants spoil my, excuse me, our plans.”

  “But there were women and children in that camp.”

  “Well, the women were coconspirators and consorts. The children were their offspring and future terrorists in the making. I told you recently that you might not approve of my methods from time to time, but that you always must consider the greater good. Terrorism is a worldwide threat to that good and must be eliminated as soon as possible. This, in fact, is the first task on our agenda.”

  “Speaking of that, when are we going to discuss this plan of yours in detail?”

  “As soon as you are back in Washington. I want you to enjoy yourself and reconnect with your family for now. I have a few things to take care of before we are ready to proceed, anyway, so the next couple of weeks should see that accomplished; and you will be able to enjoy your vacation without any worry. So since you have no further need of me, I’ll let you get back to your family. Good night, Richard.” With that the line went dead. It wasn’t lost on Richard that the Controller had stated “since” instead of asking “if” Richard had any further need.

  Richard was dismayed that he didn’t get the opportunity to raise the issue of trust. He had let the Controller dominate the conversation and turn it toward a topic of his choosing.

  Richard turned off his desk light and sat in the darkness, staring out the window at the crescent moon. The idea of terrorists out to get him only brought home what he felt would be the biggest stumbling block to getting his ideas promoted worldwide. As long as the threat of terrorism hung over the heads of nations that wanted to be in sympathy with the United States, there would be no progress.

  Richard decided there and then that he would stop confronting the Controller. He would do whatever it took to get their plan in place, no matter how distasteful. Maintaining the status quo was no longer acceptable. If the Controller felt he needed a spy in the White House, then so be it. If trust between them was going to be limited then Richard would learn to live with it. After all was said and done, it could be a small price to pay considering the rewards.

  * * *

  Richard entered the sun porch to face several stern looks.

  “You were only supposed to be a few minutes, remember, Daddy?” Jennifer was obviously the spokesperson for the group. “Now sit down so we can watch our movie.”

  “Yes, ma’am, right away.” Richard sat next to Veronica on the couch facing the screen as she motioned to the projectionist to start the film. “So, what are we going to see?”

  “You won’t believe it, ‘Finding Nemo’.”

  “Oh no, not again. Let me guess, Jennifer picked out the film.”

  “I told her she could go first; tomorrow it will be Randall’s turn. Besides, it’s a classic.”

  “Yeah and Randall will pick out something about flesh eating whatevers from outer space. I can hardly wait to here what you are going to pick when it’s your turn!”

  “I just might surprise you,” she whispered to him. “I wonder if they have any porn in the film library.”

  “Oh that would be just marvelous. I can see the headlines now, ‘President and first lady into porn and wild sex at Camp David, film at eleven’.”

  “Shush, Richard. The children can hear you.”

  “Wait till they hear the orgy!”

  Just then the movie started and they heard a mournful, “Oh no, not Nemo again!” Randall jumped up and asked if he could go to the computer room to chat with his friends on-line.

  “Only if you take me with you,” Richard joked as he waved Randall out. “Maybe the popcorn will be nice and buttery. You did order popcorn didn’t you?”

  “Relax, it’s on the way. However, it isn’t going to be buttered. You have to watch your cholesterol, remember dear?”

  “This just keeps getting better.”

  * * *

  After the movie, which Richard managed to sit through again, he and Veronica made sure Jennifer was tucked in bed, then paid a visit to Randall’s room. As they suspected, Randall was having one of his marathon on-line message sessions. He had about a dozen friends, most from his school, who would spend as many waking hours as possible on-line. Trying to convince Randall that living in the White House was going to be quite an adventure wasn’t winning him over; so before the move Richard promised to get him his very own laptop computer. That seemed to take the sting out of being uprooted and taken away from his friends. Sometimes, however, Richard regretted getting a computer with such advanced e-mail and messaging capabilities.

  “Don’t you think it’s about time to call it a night, honey?” Veronica placed her hands on Randall’s shoulders then leaned over and kissed him on top of the head. “I’m sure that whatever you and your friends are discussing can wait until tomorrow.”

  “Yeah and besides, don’t you want to try out that new fly rod I bought you?” Richard figured that would get Randall’s attention. “We’ll have to get up early to get to the trout while they’re feeding.”

  “How early is early, Dad?”

  “Oh, I’d say that we should be at the stream by seven. Can you handle that?”

  “Sure can!”

  “Okay then, you’d better turn in, pronto. I’ll see you in the dining room for breakfast at six. Be sure to dress warm because it’s going to be downright chilly.”

  “Gotcha.”

  With that taken care of, Richard and Veronica retired to their quarters. While Richard was brushing his teeth and preparing for bed, Veronica called the steward on the in-house phone and asked him to have breakfast ready for Richard and Randall, and also to prepare a picnic lunch for four. She had decided to surprise the boys by Jennifer and her showing up with the fixings for a picnic.

  “So what do you think of our first day at Camp David, Ronnie?”

  “I’m very glad we decided to do this. I hope the children like it and look forward to returning.”

  “As far as Randall is concerned, we should know tomorrow at this time if he likes it or not. If he takes to fly-fishing, as I think he will, then he’ll want to keep coming back. He’s a very patient kid and that’s definitely a plus for fishermen. And I think that as long as there’s a horse in the stable, Jennifer will be here at every opportunity. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I better get some sleep since I have to get up so early.” With that, Richard rolled over and gave Veronica a passionate kiss, one that spoke volumes to her. She knew that Richard was more at peace with himself now than he was earlier in the day. I got a hunch that Camp David is going to be very good for us, she thought to herself as she fell asleep with a smile on her face.

  * * *

  Richard awoke at five-fifteen in the morning, his biological clock fulfilling its instructions. He had learned to control it when in college since he never got around to replacing his antiquated, and highly unreliable, alarm clock. He slipped out of bed carefully so as not to wake Veronica.

  After a hot shower, he felt more aware of his surroundings and the fuzziness of waking in an unfamiliar room vanished. After he dressed, he wandered down the hall to Randall’s room and upon peeking in, was surprised to see that Randall was already up and dressed.

  “Wow, I’m impressed. I thought for sure I was going to have to dump you out of bed.”

  “I set an alarm on my computer. Have you ever been shocked awake by the 1812 Overture, with cannon? Believe me, you don’t want to!”

  “Doesn’t sound too appealing. Let’s go have breakfast. Bring your coat and gloves with you so we can leave from there.”

  * * *

  Richard was pleased that his skill with a fly rod hadn’t diminished over the years. Of course, it hadn’t improved either, much to his chagrin. He was enjoying teaching Randall, much in the same way his father had taught him, the finer points of how to hold the rod and work th
e line back and forth as more line is released, eventually leading to the placement of the fly ever so gently upon the water’s surface.

  Richard had brought along some of the flies that his father had tied many years ago. He explained to Randall how each was made and the significance of each one’s shape and coloration. When Randall asked why there were no barbs on the hooks, Richard explained that all the best trout streams that he and his father used to fish were all catch and release. You could catch as many as you cared to, but you had to return them, unharmed, back to the stream. “Just as well,” Richard said, “as this stream is catch and release also.”

  “Besides, who wants to gut and clean fish, anyway?” Randall chimed in.

  “You learn quickly, my boy.”

  A couple of hours passed before Randall got his first fish, but he never wavered in his resolve to bag one. Stubborn, just like his old man, Richard thought to himself. And his first fish was the biggest they would catch that day; it was a good two pound Rainbow with beautiful speckled coloring.

  “You played that one perfectly, Son. Just remember to keep the rod tip up a little higher next time. You keep this up and before we leave Camp David you’ll be better than me.”

  All Randall could say was “Cool,” but Richard could see the pride welling up inside his son. He always complimented Randall when he did something deserving, without going overboard.

  Just a few minutes later they turned at the sound of approaching footsteps to see Veronica, with picnic basket in hand and Jennifer in tow.

  “How are my favorite fishermen doing?” she smiled.

  “Great, Mom, you should have seen the big Rainbow I caught. Too bad we had to let it go.”

  “Don’t tell me,” she opened up her arms to shoulder width and beyond to indicate what a four-foot long fish would look like “It was this big, right?”

  “Not hardly, but I’d guess it was probably about sixteen inches. What do you think, Dad?”

  “Yeah that’s about right, I guess.” Richard held his hands about sixteen inches apart.

  “Okay, so he is lying and you are swearing to it, I get the picture. Come on Jennifer, let’s set up our picnic.”

  “No really, he did catch a nice two pounder. I swear.” Richard couldn’t help adding the “I swear” and flashing Veronica a mischievous grin.

  “So what did you girls bring for lunch? Which, by the way, was very thoughtful of you, Ronnie.”

  “Well, we didn’t bring any crow, if that’s what you mean.”

  * * *

  After their picnic, the family walked back to the compound, Jennifer and Randall leading while Veronica and Richard followed at a distance casually walking hand in hand.

  “I couldn’t help but notice how relaxed you’ve been since we got here, Richard. I expected as much, I just didn’t think it would happen as quickly as it did.”

  “I guess that this camp is such a departure from the environment at the White House that I got into the swing of things fairly fast. It’s easy to let go of your cares and let the surroundings take hold.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. Imagine what it would be like if every major power moved its head of state to a place like Camp David. If all business were conducted from atmospheres like this, maybe we could put an end to conflict. Everybody would be too mellow to wage war.”

  “Spoken like a true dreamer. I’ll suggest your plan to the United Nations.”

  * * *

  The next day, after breakfast with the family, Richard went to his office to make phone calls to Adam and Stephen. He wanted to touch base with them since he had a two p.m. meeting scheduled with Democratic Senators Vallins, Thompson and Margolis.

  Stephen’s prediction that Thompson and Margolis were the most likely senators to follow Vallins’ lead of lending support to Richard turned out to be spot on. It didn’t surprise Richard when Vallins asked for the meeting at Camp David. Stephen also predicted that move as well, saying that the first family’s vacation at the Camp was the ideal time for the meeting—the Camp David visit wouldn’t be as obvious as one to the Oval Office. Fewer prying eyes meant less attention being drawn to the senators, who were already under close watch from their party peers.

  Stephen and Richard knowing that the support from Vallins, Thompson and Margolis would come with a price, spent several hours in preparation reviewing each man’s promises to his constituents. There were several issues common to all three senators that Richard was prepared to offer as bargaining points. For the most part, those issues corresponded to the Democratic Party’s agenda and if the senators could return with a win under their belts, it would put them in a better light. Making concessions now to relatively minor issues could help secure their support later, when Richard would need it for his own programs.

  * * *

  “Senators, welcome to Camp David. Please have a seat. Sorry I’m a few minutes late, a last minute phone call.”

  “Think nothing of it Mr. President, it gave us time to have a cup of coffee.” Heath Vallins spoke first.

  Richard poured himself a cup of coffee and joined the others in front of the fireplace.

  “So gentlemen, I’m pleased we’ve been able to get together today. I’ve been looking forward to having this discussion.”

  “Thank you for taking time away from your vacation to speak with us, Mr. President.” Senator Margolis looked Richard in the eyes as he spoke. The senator’s look didn’t convey the hardness that Richard had been anticipating from a member of the opposition party, especially one who was unsure of the programs the president was proposing.

  Andrew Thompson expressed his gratitude, “I hope we haven’t inconvenienced your family with our visit.” His gaze caught Richard’s and convinced the president that he was genuine in his concern.

  “Thank you Andrew.” The president purposely intended to address each man familiarly so they would feel more comfortable. “Don’t concern yourself; my family realizes that my time has to be divided between business and pleasure. Besides, I’m glad you gentlemen are here. Which leads me to the nature of your visit. Heath, would you care to kick things off?”

  “Yes, I would Mr. President. As you are aware, there are a few of us in the Democratic Party who believe that some of the programs you have outlined bear close consideration. We believe, as you, that there are certain issues that are worthy of bipartisan support. We want to help you garner that support.”

  “I appreciate that, Heath. Tell me though, what are you looking for in exchange for your assistance? I may be new to politics, but I do realize that there has to be some give and take.”

  “Nothing, Mr. President.”

  Richard was surprised that Vallins didn’t take advantage of the situation. “Surely your constituents have some issues they would like to see resolved.”

  Senator Thompson joined in, “If you see merit in some of the programs we espouse and choose to support them, that would be of tremendous help in currying the favor of other Democrats on the Hill. But I must reiterate what Heath has said, we aren’t asking for anything in return for the support we have just offered you.”

  “I have to admit, gentlemen, that I’m surprised. To what do I owe such support?”

  Senator Margolis, quiet up to this point, looked Richard in the eyes and said “Let’s just say that we have a common interest in the future and a common benefactor.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  There was only a crescent moon and the low rain clouds obscured it, perfect weather for a surprise attack. The twenty-four terrorists were completely clad in black clothing, from the black ski masks down to the black boots. With the rain pelting down at a steady pace for the last couple of hours, the sentries were staying under cover of the awnings and inside the guardhouse. Normally they would be walking their posts, stopping only for a change in guard. Sergeant Douglas had given permission for his men to stay out of the unseasonable rain, since they had been subjected to it, nonstop, for several days. Besides, this was the Cairo emba
ssy; there hadn’t been any problems here since anyone could remember. It was a choice assignment for the Marines to be stationed in Cairo with a peaceful citizenry that welcomed their presence. They could do a lot worse than being here.

  Lance Corporals Johnson and Higgins were in the guardhouse. Higgins had just made a fresh pot of coffee, as he usually did right before the shift change.

  “I don’t know about you, Jeff, but I’m going to sleep good tonight. Staying cooped up in this shack for a whole shift isn’t exactly my idea of thrilling. It’s got me plumb tuckered out with boredom. Isn’t it midnight yet?” Higgins’ southern drawl, combined with his “plumb tuckered out” brought a smile to Johnson’s face. The two shared more than a shift on the duty roster; they had become close friends in spite of such diverse backgrounds. Johnson was from “Southern California, a surfer and laid back type of guy; Higgins hailed from Kentucky and was a worrywart.

  “Take it from me, you aren’t the only one that’s bored. Count your blessings; you could be standing outside like those other poor slobs. At least in here you can sit down and stay dry. Besides, in a couple of minutes our relief will be here.”

  The terrorists positioned several men on each side of the embassy compound, each within sight of those to his left and right. They were using night vision goggles for a clear view of any activity occurring within the compound. Once they confirmed via radio communication and hand signals that it was safe to proceed, each man would stealthily move toward the perimeter fence and quietly cut a hole just large enough to slip through. Once through the opening, each man would work his way toward the sentry on his side of the compound. There he would neutralize the Marine guard with one swift, strategically placed thrust. Each man was equipped with a Sheffield commando knife, the perfect weapon for a silent kill, with its seven-inch carbon steel blade. Even if it were not an instantaneous kill, not one yell, groan or gurgle would be heard over the drumming of the rain on the stone paving. With the sentries were taken out and their bodies hidden, each terrorist would assume his victim’s position in case anyone else approached; meanwhile, the rest of the assault team would filter through the fence openings and silently speed to their posts. Another four team members, hiding in the shadows, backed up each terrorist sentry. There they would await the arrival of the relief guards.