by Jerry Bruce
“So you are including yourself in this theoretical government?” Richard was fishing, for what, he didn’t know. The earlier reference to Hitler uniting nations, was it an inadvertent slip of the tongue or maybe a Freudian slip revealing something about the Controller’s own willingness to use force to attain his dream?
“Only as I am currently involved in your government; strictly behind the scenes as an advisor.” Advisor? Richard thought that was an interesting choice of words, all things considered.
“I see. And what if I choose not to go along with this arrangement?” Richard was referring to his own uncertainty as to whether he would be interested in such a position.
The Controller, however, took it to mean something far different. His response was punctuated with a trace of anger. Richard was surprised at this lack of composure. “I feel safe in saying that I will be the primary driving force behind getting you elected as the new world president. Without a prior understanding between you and me, I would not be willing to advance your name as a candidate. I am certain that I could get someone else to agree to the arrangement—perhaps Vice President Hamilton, for example. He is, after all, filling the highly visible role of leader on our project. He will make quite a name for himself by the time his term of office is over. I was rather hoping that he would take over from you as President of the United States, but if I need to elevate him to a higher position, so be it. The main thing for me is to have someone I am comfortable with in the position. In fact, maybe I should start thinking about James Rolt for the position. Yes, I think he could work out fine—not as strong as you or Hamilton, but suitable nonetheless. I don’t have to make the decision right now; I have plenty of time. In the meantime, I suggest that you give the subject some serious thought, Richard.” His voice didn’t soften in the least during the tirade.
“I’ll do that.”
“I certainly hope you do; there is a lot resting on your decision. Don’t make a hasty one. Consider all the ramifications. Once you have chosen your path, there will be no turning back.”
The line went dead with Richard still holding the phone to his ear. He slowly put it down on his desk and turned around in his chair to gaze out at the rain which had started to fall. He wasn’t particularly fond of this time of the year, the remaining days of winter. It was still cold, but not cold enough for snow, and not yet warm enough to melt the last of the snow. Now that the rain had come, the snow would vanish and everyone would look forward to spring. Richard loved the spring in Washington, D.C., with the cherry blossoms in bloom. Spring meant a rejuvenation of more than the flora; it gave rise to the human spirit that had been repressed by the cold and dampness. The short, dark days of winter would soon give way to both longer and brighter sunny days and even brighter outlooks.
But for now, Richard could only think about what the Controller had said. Why, after so many years had passed, did he have that old feeling of apprehension? He ran the Controller’s words through his mind over and over again. What stood out the most was the way he talked about putting Stephen or James in place as world president. Richard didn’t want to over think this, but he couldn’t help coming back to the same conclusion—Stephen and James were in alliance with the Controller. Richard could believe it of James Rolt; the Controller admitted it when talking of his assistance to Rolt. But Stephen? Richard didn’t want to believe this, but in the back of his mind, he had to admit that it could explain how some things occurred in the past—things for which only someone extremely close to the president could have been responsible. His dilemma now was whether or not to confront Stephen.
Maybe Stephen’s name coming up is only a coincidence, Richard thought to himself. A very convenient coincidence, though. Maybe the Controller was trying to drive a wedge between Stephen and him for some reason. Maybe the Controller feels threatened by a possible alliance between two powerful people. One-on-one, he might be capable of keeping us in check; however, united we might pose a threat. Maybe that’s why he seemed overly concerned as to whether I’ve discussed him with Stephen. Maybe. If I keep up with this, I’ll likely drive myself nuts. I’ll just play it close to the vest where Stephen is concerned and see if anything arises to sway me one way or the other.
The rain was coming down harder and the skies grew more menacing. A brilliant flash was followed immediately by a clap of thunder, the force of which startled Richard back to his surroundings and made him aware of Mrs. Williams’ voice on the intercom.
“Mr. President? Are you there?”
“Yes, Mrs. Williams, what can I do for you?”
“Sir, the vice president would like to see you for a few minutes.”
“And I would like to see him.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Richard had a full schedule ahead of him. He noticed that Christine Morrison was on the agenda at four p.m. and wondered what it could be about.
His top priority for the day was a morning long session with his budget advisors, Adam and other staff. They had to pound out a draft of their budget proposals for the next fiscal year. As usual, it would be a give and take session in which everyone had to give his input as to what budget entry needed an increase, which should be reduced, and which should be eliminated. Richard had at least half the population, or so it seemed, demanding a piece of the budget. Even Veronica was badgering him for more money to be allocated to some of her charitable causes.
He thought to himself that if he tried to give everyone what they wanted, the country could end up with a deficit that exceeded all the wealth in the world. Why couldn’t people see that?
Richard had been diligent during his first term in reducing the deficit to a workable level, and he hoped that this, his second term, would see a further reduction to the point of totally eliminating the deficit. The hard part was squeezing out additional funds needed for the Controller’s projects. While Capitol Hill supported the projects in concept, they refused to admit what might have to go in order to fund them. Of course everyone felt it more appropriate to cut the other guy’s budget than his own. He didn’t like having to be the bad guy all the time, but it was the only way to come up with something reasonable without bankrupting the country.
Richard knew, that if the past were a good indicator, he would be challenged to keep the budget meeting focused. It was easy to get sidetracked as proponents argued for the retention, or increase, of funds for favored projects. He would have to take a firm stance and tell everyone which programs he was willing to champion and those that he would fight to the bitter end. They would soon realize that they were wasting their time rehashing the same issues and would move on to new items deserving of consideration. Richard’s only comfort was that everyone was willing to allow for the relatively small amount that the first lady was asking for on behalf of her programs. Veronica must have done her own campaigning because he didn’t use his position to gain her an advantage.
Eventually the basis for a final draft was set. Everyone seemed happy with the compromises which had been reached, and Richard was pleased that his highest priorities had been given due consideration. Now the hard part could begin—getting approval on the Hill. That, of course, would involve numerous amendments and resubmissions.
* * *
Christine had Mrs. Williams announce her at precisely four p.m. She was an absolute vision, having gone to extra lengths for Richard’s sake. She knew she was being obvious, but had long since decided that she didn’t care. She only wanted Richard to be aware of how she felt. She knew that Richard would never pursue a relationship with her while he was married to Veronica; but situations change and she could always hope.
Richard rose to greet her with a smile and a not too subtle once-over. He motioned her to the couch and sat beside her. He had Mrs. Williams bring in some fresh coffee and offered a cup to Christine, then poured one for himself.
“So, Christine, what can I do for you?”
“I wanted to fill you in on some of the latest rumors that the press are circula
ting, Mr. President.”
“Oh, and what might those be this time?”
“Well, it’s been pretty much the same old stuff except for one thing that the BNN reporter, Ralph Blocker, said to me. In a private discussion, he told me he was positive that he had information that could lead to the identity of our benefactor.”
“Now that’s interesting. Did he give you any details, Christine?”
“He told me that he would back off on releasing a story only if you personally asked him to do so.”
“I wonder what he has up his sleeve. He didn’t say anything else?”
“No, nothing, sir. Once word of the new project became official, he was the one that usually asked the pertinent questions. He’s a pretty sharp reporter, with a lot of contacts. My hunch is that he is just trying to see if we will release some more information—either on purpose or unintentionally.”
“I’ll tell you what I would like to do. Arrange a meeting with Mr. Blocker—just he and I—so that I can see if there’s anything else he knows. It could be that he’ll tell me more than he was willing to relate to you. If not, then at least I might be able to get him to hold off on airing anything until we’re ready.”
Richard’s mind was churning. If this guy did have some information, he wanted it. Anything that could lead to the identity of the Controller was immensely valuable. But he had to make sure that no one else got a hold of the information. Any clue that his identity might become known would cause the Controller to go underground and take who knows what kind of retaliatory actions.
“I’ll talk with him tomorrow and set something up. Are you sure you want to deal with him directly, sir? I mean, he may just be saying this in order to get an inside track to you. I don’t know what good that would do him, but who knows what he may have on his mind.”
“Don’t worry, Christine; I’m sure I can handle anything that Mr. Blocker might try to put over on me. Thanks for your concern.”
Richard’s focus on Blocker was so intense, he didn’t notice Christine leave. I wonder what he has, Richard thought to himself. What could he have uncovered? The possibility that Blocker had information that could identify the Controller was making Richard’s imagination run wild. If somehow Blocker was knowledgeable of the Controller’s identity and he gave up the information, what would Richard do with it? When the Controller first contacted him there would have been no question; Richard would have hunted him down. Now, however, it was a different story; he had significant programs underway which could be in jeopardy if the Controller were to withdraw. Even if he knew the Controller’s identity, Richard probably wouldn’t be able to exploit it.
* * *
It had been a while since Richard had reviewed his notes, specifically those related to the Controller, so he made himself a scotch and water and settled into his favorite easy chair.
Richard found it interesting how the tone of his notes had changed over the years. Early on he had gone through mood swings that changed from doubt to concern, then to fear, and finally to understanding and cooperation. For several years, Richard’s relationship with the Controller could be viewed as friendly; there was still no doubt as to who was calling the shots, but the Controller’s voice was more pleasant than it had been in the beginning. As Richard came upon the most recent notes, he noticed a return of his earlier apprehension; once again there were indications of doubt, worry and fear. He was concerned over this regression in feelings.
Richard had been thinking seriously about what everyone was saying with regard to a world presidency, and kept vacillating back and forth. While wanting to continue with his agenda and make the world the better for it, he was fearful of what the future might hold in his partnership with the Controller. Once more he was torn between cooperation and dissention. He couldn’t help but wonder if this emotional roller coaster would ever end.
* * *
The Controller turned off the TVs and monitors, poured himself a glass of Chateau Margaux, and sat down in his favorite chair. After holding the glass up to the light to admire the wine’s color, he turned off the lamp.
He hoped sitting in complete silence and darkness would soothe away the pain lingering over his eyes, probably the result of several hours scrutinizing financial reports.
He took his first mouthful of wine, pausing momentarily before swallowing to let the full flavor bathe his taste buds. He paused a few seconds before his next sip to reflect on the satisfying flavor produced by the blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Petit Verdot and Cabernet Franc.
After he finished his wine, he closed his eyes and let his head fall back to be supported by the high backed chair. He couldn’t help but think about his future plans and the part that Richard Sinclair would play. He knew he had to bring Richard along slowly, feeding him just enough to whet his appetite, but leaving him wanting more. Richard would only commit to his plans if he saw them as a way to attain his own goals.
Even though he expressed his readiness to promote either Rolt or Hamilton to a world presidency, his agenda would be best served with Sinclair at the helm. All his preparation was focused on Richard Sinclair, a proven leader, as the obvious choice to the rest of the world. His schedule would be impacted if he had to convince the world that Rolt or Hamilton was worthy of the position.
No, he thought, I have to make sure Sinclair stays interested.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The weather had changed over the last week, and it was now sunny and warming up. All the snow that had accumulated from the record cold winter was gone, having irrigated the soil to make way for new flora. All around Camp David the flowering plants were in bud, the trees were bearing new leaves and the lawns were a vibrant green.
All the preparations had been made. Extra horses and extra fishing gear had been brought in. All the guest cabins had been prepared and scrutinized by Veronica. She labored as to who should stay in which cabin, finally deciding on Dogwood for the Sinclairs, Maple for the Radliffs, Holly for her sister Maureen and her husband, and Birch for her other sister Laura and her husband. It was a pleasant surprise that her sisters would be able to join the grandparents on this trip, and a disappointment that Richard’s brother and sister couldn’t make it. While the grandparents would be spending extra time at the White House, her sisters could get away only for the two-week Camp David vacation.
Veronica was, by her own admission, driving the staff crazy making sure everything would be perfect for the visiting relatives. Other than a day or two get-together around a big holiday, there wasn’t a lot of interaction between Richard’s family and Veronica’s. Their parents had spent some time together now and again, including twice when the Radliffs vacationed in Napa Valley, and once when the Sinclairs were guests at the Radliff’s estate. Without knowing, Jonathan actually saved the Sinclair’s bookshop from bankruptcy when bad storms destroyed the vines several years past, at a time when tourism was non-existent and the local economy was in the doldrums. Jonathan commissioned Howard Sinclair to act as his agent in the purchase of some valuable European first editions. He paid all of Howard’s travel expenses and gave him an exceptionally large bonus when Howard convinced a private collector to part with the original letters written from Sir Walter Raleigh to Queen Elizabeth I. Jonathan had been trying for over a decade to secure the letters, written in 1585 while Raleigh was trying to form an English colony in America on Roanoak Island. Howard’s commission and bonus was sufficient to erase all the bookshop’s debt, and then some. Needless to say, this business transaction led to a fast friendship.
On the upper patio, the first family was anxiously awaiting their visitors. Lunch had been prepared and the caravan bringing them was only minutes away. They had hoped the weather would cooperate, and it did; everyone would see Camp David at its best. Randall would be joining them the second week, after his visit to Harvard. It would not be long before Jennifer would also be off to a university somewhere. At least she was here now and her grandparents could see how much of a lady t
heir granddaughter had become.
The caravan arrived about fifteen minutes later than anticipated due to traffic around the airport. Even though police escorted the caravan, the motorcycles didn’t use lights or sirens to clear a path, preferring instead to use them only when crossing intersections in order to keep the vehicles together.
As each vehicle’s passengers disembarked, there was added confusion as to who was going to hug whom first. Veronica gave the staff instructions as to what luggage went where.
With Veronica still giving the staff orders, Richard led their guests to the upper patio for drinks before lunch.
“So Jonathan, how’s the ole ticker these days? I see you’re feeling good enough to have a malt scotch!” Howard was fortunate to have always been in perfect health, though he did consider Jonathan’s heart attack six months ago a reminder to maintain his healthy lifestyle.
“They put a pacemaker in this time and I feel much better. That first attack I had a few years ago was a mild one. This one had the doctors more concerned so they decided on the pacemaker. They tell me I’m fit as a fiddle. Some days I’m more off-key than others though!” At least he hadn’t lost his sense of humor. “And I can still give Marion a good chase around the bedroom!”
“That will be enough of that, you old letch.” Marion couldn’t help but smile at his comment.