Captive-in-Chief

by Murray Mcdonald

  “Yeah but that’s the right one.”

  “No, left.”

  “I meant the one we want him to get into, you know, the right one!”

  “No, left.”

  “Are you two for real?” snapped Elsa. “Did he get in the correct chopper?”

  “Yes.”

  “We sure?”

  “Pretty sure.”

  “Okay, send the signal. Five minutes and we should hear something.

  Five minutes came and went. Nothing. Ten minutes, perhaps it wasn’t that far away.

  Her cell rang. ‘Dad’ was displayed, phoning to congratulate her she expected as she answered.

  “Why the hell am I hearing the first lady is dead?!” he shouted.

  Chapter 86

  Florida had been as brief a landing as was physically possible. Two men boarded and Ramona worked her magic with their routing, miraculously arranging for their immediate departure to join the US aircraft already in situ at Bariloche Airport and offer in flight fuelling if required.

  Clay and Joe had told Mike, Sarah, and Joe’s former Force Recon team members what they knew. The silence that befell them was testament to how unbelievable the events of the past ten days had been. None dared interrupt with a question as the story unfolded.

  As to why, well, that part was still in question. Amy knew so little about the bigger picture she was useless. They needed to get to a bigger fish, not just a pawn in the grand scheme.

  With a few hours still to run, Clay signaled for Joe to join him at the rear of the plane.

  “I owe you an explanation,” he said.

  “No you don’t, you’ve welcomed me into your family like I’m one of them.”

  “You are!”

  “I don’t understand, why didn’t you tell the truth when you were rescued from prison?” Clay asked.

  “I was broken. I wanted to get out. I didn’t care. You thought I was dead, you played it to your advantage, and look where you are now.”

  “But it’s a lie. I was the coward, you were the hero. It was you running into the enemy that caused them to retreat. It was you that made them think we were a far greater force. It was you that risked your life while I cowered in a hole out of sight. Two of my men saw enough to know someone was hiding while someone was fighting. I told them I was the fighter. I couldn’t face the shame and the lie just grew. I never cowered again after that day. I stood tall and lived up to the example you had set. I led my men from the front from that day on.”

  “If I had told the truth, it would have destroyed you. That would have been me knowingly destroying you. Never gonna happen.”

  “But I ruined your life!”

  “So you’d rather it was you standing where I am? That I would knowingly destroy you? Would you have done it if you knew I was alive?”

  “Of course not!” Clay exclaimed in horror at the thought.

  “Uday Hussein ruined my life. It wasn’t what you did that kept me on the streets and drinking, it was the memories of what he did. What I witnessed in that torture cell. You had no part in that.”

  “I robbed you of your life, Joe. I’ll never forgive myself for that or for my cowardice in not clearing your name when you were found alive.”

  “You changed my record the day you were inaugurated. The first chance you got, you did something. That means a lot. And I forgive you.”

  “It was my first act. It’s probably the reason they never realized who you were. Your name is nowhere on either of our records. I graduated school in Florida and we never served in any of the same units.”

  “Are we good?” asked Joe.

  “As long as you are, I am,” said Clay.

  “Good, ‘cause we need to get some sleep. I’ve a feeling we’re in for quite a day.”

  “Mr. President?” One of the pilots had come through from the cockpit. “I’m very sorry, Mr. President, …we’re hearing on the radio that…” he took a gulp of air, “…that the first lady is dead.”

  Chapter 87

  Both choppers landed as planned. Eric bounded down the steps of his chopper and waited for Maria to exit. The other chopper remained stationary, its rotors slowing as the engine was switched off. The pilots exited, and still the rear failed to open.

  He thought back to his phone call from the president: Keep your Aunt Val safe, stay by her side. It wasn’t a request he’d taken lightly. He had every intention of keeping her safe, even to the point of upsetting his wife.

  “Where’s Maria?” asked Val, exiting the helicopter she had shared with Eric.

  “I’m guessing she’s on the phone.”

  She probably was. She was always on the phone. Her mother took a great deal of interest in the pregnancy, particularly after the scan had revealed abnormalities. It wasn’t going to be an easy pregnancy, as there was a high probability the child would be born with disabilities. It was a heartbreak the two were having to bear, both vehemently rejecting the idea of an abortion.

  “Her agents haven’t come out either?”

  Eric raced across the field with his agents in tow and pulled the door open to the rear of the helicopter. On entry, his agents immediately called a medical team and advised that the first lady, wife of President Eric Warner, was presumed dead.

  “NOOOOO!!!!!!” Eric screamed, his head in hands.

  Though it took some time to confirm the initial suggestion had proved correct, it was carbon monoxide poisoning. A manifold on the exhaust system had fractured and pure carbon monoxide had entered the purified air system. Maria and her two agents looked as peaceful as they ever had. If there was a way to go, there weren’t many who wouldn’t choose that option. Not that it was any comfort to Eric, he had just lost his wife and unborn child.

  Chapter 88

  The evening banquet for the American delegation had been arranged for some time. A guest speaker was attending, and after some deliberation and to many people’s surprise, it was to go ahead as planned. Though Maria’s death had cast a dark shadow over the summit and the planned events, Eric had issued a statement insisting everything went ahead. Maria’s parents had been born and raised in Columbia and her heritage meant she fully understood the importance of the summit for the less developed countries in the Americas.

  He remained in his room, his Aunt Val by his side. The VC25s were being flown in to repatriate Maria’s body and take President Eric Warner home in the style befitting a president and his wife.

  The guests filtered into the grand dining hall. A number of US cabinet members, including the defense secretary and the attorney general, took their seats at the top table. A number of others including the secretaries of Education, Veteran Affairs, and Health and Human Services, were seated among high profile industrialists. Senators, congressmen and congresswomen and Supreme Court justices who had been invited along especially for the dinner also took their seats. The island buzzed with security. Despite Maria’s death being ruled an accident, security had been heightened, patrols increased, and numbers swollen, partly due to Eric being inaugurated as temporary president, though in no small part to the hundred or so security personnel that accompanied their guest speaker. He was a man few outside of the dinner and the corridors of power would even recognize. He was and had been for some time a king maker. With his power and influence behind you, elections were guaranteed. Democrat or Republican, he wasn’t interested, if it was good for him and his organization, you had his support.

  Only six seats remained empty at the top table. Eric’s and Maria’s, Val’s, the guest speaker’s, and the Baldwins’ - Vic And Ed. A gavel banged on to the table by the defense secretary silenced the audience.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, may I please introduce our guest speaker? I’m sure few here need to hear his achievements but it’s only right to indulge…”

  The secretary went on to list the number of major organizations the man owned or was major shareholder of. He made the Baldwins look poor, such was the size and scale of his organization, which generated
billions of dollars a year in profits, all of which were poured back into programs to help build a better America for all.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Mr. Karl Leipzig,” he concluded.

  A standing ovation and thunderous round of applause followed. Karl Leipzig, a man easily in his eighties and requiring some assistance from a cane, walked onto the stage and embraced the warmth of his reception. Standing silently, he waited for the applause to die down. It didn’t, the noise only grew. Finally he realized only he could stop it. He raised his hands outwards and directed the roar much as a conductor would an orchestra. The level dropped to complete and total silence.

  Karl looked around the room. Security had taken their positions at all entrances to the dining room. Waiters and waitresses had been excluded while he talked. To his right, a technician behind a curtain was monitoring for any recording devices being active in the room. He gave a thumbs up. The audience had, as fully expected, adhered to the conditions imposed upon them.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his booming voice defying his frail appearance, “few of you have heard this story firsthand. You may have heard it from one another but never from me. It is not a story I tell often for obvious reasons. However, I believe tonight is an event worthy of me perhaps for a final time telling the story of how we came to be here today…”

  ***

  “Good luck,” Clyde said as Elsa slipped into the darkness from the vantage point they had over the lodge. The beat of choppers coming and going had finally calmed. The golf carts had also stopped their constant buzzing between the helipad and the lodge as they delivered guest after guest to the dinner. Men and women bedecked in formal evening dress were welcomed at the door by a Marine guard.

  Elsa brushed down her dress, an exquisite designer piece from her collection. It wasn’t often she wore formal attire but when she did, there were few who pulled it off better. It was the perfect cover for her entry to the lodge. She stepped out of the shrubbery and was met by one of the golf cart drivers as arranged.

  “Whoa? Hot!” he whistled at the woman he was more accustomed to seeing in combat gear.

  “Shut up and drive,” she barked, climbing into the cart, although the compliment was secretly appreciated.

  She arrived at the gate and rushed towards the guard. “Sorry, I’m a little late,” she said, showing her invitation.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, I can’t find your name,” the guard said, checking the list.

  “Sorry, I was a last minute attendee. I’m tagged on at the bottom I believe.”

  “The guard flipped the page, ah there you are, I was checking alphabetically,” he crossed off her name. “Elsa…”

  “Yes, yes, I’m late.” She brushed past him and into the building.

  She breathed a sigh of relief. Security, as anticipated, was outside, not inside. She had almost free reign of the building. She checked the time. The main speaker would be starting. She climbed the stairs and spotted the room she needed to get to. Two Secret Service agents were posted outside the door like a neon sign flashing ‘The president is in here!’

  She checked herself in a large mirror opposite the main staircase, added a touch of lip-gloss, and rearranged her cleavage for maximum effect. Perfect. She placed her lip gloss back in her clutch. Her throwing knives, ceramic to avoid the detectors, sat there too, ready to use. She walked confidently towards the agents. They remained at ease. A beautiful woman who had passed through numerous scanners and checks, wearing a dress that barely hid her panty line, and carried a clutch so small no weapon of any concern could be contained was little for them to be concerned about.

  ***

  Clay looked out as they circled the airport once again.

  “It’s been a while since he’s had to worry about holding patterns,” joked the Force Recon retirees. Their love for Clay hadn’t grown being any nearer to him. Nor the fact that their Master Sergeant had forgiven him. To them, he was the man who had destroyed their colleague and robbed them of the best Force Recon Marine they had ever had the pleasure to serve with. After his unceremonious departure, all had left as quickly as their contracts would allow.

  They hadn’t been there the night Joe had been captured but to a man they had vehemently protested the scenario that their Master Sergeant was anything other than a hero. They had all witnessed him in action. Cowering under fire? Nonsense. The way Clay had told the story and the actions he described of himself left them in little doubt that those actions had in fact been Joe’s.

  When he had failed to defend himself on his release from the Iraqi torture chambers, they had all tried to see him but he had accepted his discharge without question and disappeared. They hadn’t heard from him until the phone call they had received a few hours earlier.

  The pressure Clay was under was overwhelming. For a half hour he had thought his wife was dead. Finally the news had come through that it was Maria that had died not Val. It was little comfort; his pregnant niece was dead.

  Joe walked away from his old team. They had weathered the years well, far better than he had. They all looked fit and ready for action, not that he was surprised. The Marine Corps, and especially Force Recon, was a lifestyle, it became part of you. Once a Marine always a Marine.

  “If they’ve inaugurated Eric, his life will be in so much danger now,” said Clay as Joe approached.

  “Why would they inaugurate Eric?” asked Jack, overhearing part of the conversation. Fortunately, Clay had not told his children about Val. He didn’t feel they’d benefit from knowing while flying at 37,000 feet. He would have told them when the time was right.

  “It’s normal practice. If I’m incapacitated or out of contact, somebody needs to be able to make decisions.”

  “Like what? What’s so important they can’t wait a day or two?” Jack asked absently while stroking a very appreciative Sandy.

  “In all reality very little, however, if somebody fires a nuclear bomb at us, well…”

  “Like that’s gonna happen. You guys are so last century,” replied Jack, ending his interest in the conversation.

  “Out of the mouth of babes,” Clay mused.

  “We’ve got a slot to land,” announced the pilot.

  Clay walked through to the cockpit. “Any idea what the holdup was?”

  The pilot pointed down to the airport. It was like a parking lot at a Super Bowl. Aircraft were parked everywhere, in every direction, and occupying every square inch of space.

  “That’s a lot of private jets!” exclaimed the pilot. “They’ve been zipping in to land over the last hour and their occupants being ferried by helicopters off to the northwest.”

  The bird’s eye view their holding pattern had offered was perfect to understand what had been transpiring below.

  “Just get us down there ASAP, please.”

  Clay walked back into the main cabin and updated his ragtag crew on what was happening.

  “There was no event planned for tonight, certainly not when you were scheduled to attend, Mr. President!” Ramona said on hearing the news of the myriad of private jets.

  “Which means there is every chance this is their big move,” Clay concluded. “We need to get to Eric as a matter of urgency. We can trust no one.”

  “Mr. President, we need to keep you secure and out of the way. If they do get to Eric, we need you alive. You’re our only hope,” said Mike. His sworn duty was to keep his president alive.

  Clay turned to Joe and his Force Recon buddies.

  “Here we go,” murmured Carlos. “He’s got a great excuse to duck out of this one.”

  Clay ignored the comment, which drew daggers from Ramona. Carlos’ cards were marked, something few ever recovered from.

  “Mike, I’m going to be by my friend’s side,” Clay said. “If not, in front of him. If this is my time, so be it, but I’m going to prove to my friend I am the man he always thought I was.”

  “Very touching, Mr. President,” barked Sarah, “but if you an
d Eric die, the country is screwed.”

  “I obviously have a lot more faith in our citizens than you do. The perpetrators of this conspiracy have woefully underestimated the resolve and might of the American people. Whether I live or die, I know our people will see through the crimes perpetrated against them and stand tall.”

  “Very rousing but—”

  “You listen to your president,” Ramona snapped, cutting Sarah off. “He’s right, we’re already seeing through it. These people are living in the past if they think we’ll tolerate the crap they’re trying to bring about. Time to stop bitchin’ and start fightin’ back!”

  Carlos grinned. “She’s good!”

  Ramona gave him a brief smile; it was the shortest time anyone had ever lasted on her shit list.

  “Seat belts please, we’re on our final approach,” announced the pilot.

  Chapter 89

  He had them in the palm of his hand. All had heard a version of the story although never from someone so close to actual events.

  “My sister remembered it so clearly. It’s a shame she can’t be here herself to regale you with her own personal memories but I hope I will do it justice. The war was over. The Russians were coming, there was nothing that could stop them. Mistakes had been made, of that there was little doubt. She remembers the bunker, hot, stuffy, smelly. She had been there for weeks and when she was told they were leaving, she packed her bag with no sense of sorrow. The mood was somber as she said her farewells to the people close to her father. Those who were staying behind had been chosen. They were willing to sacrifice their lives so that the cause could live on. She remembers walking into the room where her father would meet with his generals. Two men turned to her. She never knew which was which. She hated when her father played tricks with her with his doubles. She always felt she dishonored him when she failed to know who was her real father. He loved it if his own daughter couldn’t tell.”