“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you. That will be all.”
The agent turned and left. He never took his eyes off Latimer. Never acknowledged Morrison’s presence except for the instinctive quick evaluation when he first entered the room.
“Frank, I won’t waste your time or mine. This is going to be a quick update because I only have ten minutes for you and no time to do this anyway but bluntly, so please forgive me. I have reason to believe that the president is dead. I have reason to believe that General Slaider is involved in an attempted coup to wrest control of this government by the arrogation to himself of presidential powers. I believe he is attempting by use of the contingency relocation plan to capture the entire seat of government of the United States, to what end I do not know.
“Jesus Christ, Paul,” Morrison began to rise from his seat.
“Frank, sit down. I only have a few minutes to do this with you. I know what I’m saying is shocking, but Amanda Brock has brought me evidence of a conspiracy controlled by Slaider that is sufficient to warrant the action that I am now taking. You will be shown the evidence and have a chance to interview Brock later. I know this sounds a little lame right now, but from what I know, minutes could be crucial and I have no time to prepare a more convincing case for you. Right now, if you love your country you will not waste my time by arguing with me. The speaker, and I emphasize this point for a reason, did not return from his so-called meeting with Emerson. We haven’t heard from him and General Slaider continues to insult our intelligence by insisting that he is in conference with the president. The situation is coming close to the brink.
“In addition, by this evening, we all expect looting and rioting in New York and probably a continuation of the arson we are experiencing in Washington. General Slaider has already informed me that he is readying plans for martial law to be extended to New York City should the governor request it. It will be difficult to refuse this request if it comes. By this evening, General Slaider will have military governments in Washington and the state of New York and the people will be hailing it as a sign of decisive governmental action and continuity during this time of threat to our national security.”
“But Paul, these things can be interpreted in a less . . . I don’t know . . . a less treasonous way.”
“No, Frank, we have no time to play devil’s advocate here. I will not obey Emerson’s written order to join him in the underground White House. I will not authorize the implementation of the contingency relocation plan, a plan that places the entire leadership level of the government of the United States under military jurisdiction. I have informed General Slaider that if the speaker is not released—and I mean released—from military jurisdiction by five o’clock tonight, one hour from now, I will call Congress into special session. All congressional leaders have been apprised of this possibility.
“I will invoke the Twenty-fifth Amendment, section four of the constitution and declare, along with the depositions of the members of the cabinet, that the president is unable to discharge the powers and duties of his office. As vice president I will assume the powers and duties of the office of acting president.
“I will do these things if the speaker is not released and I’m asking for your support and the support of the rest of the executive branch.”
Paul Latimer looked steadily at Frank Morrison. He paused just long enough to convince himself that Morrison was with him, was still focused on what he was saying. He continued, “Frank, I need you. I can’t have the president’s chief of staff fighting this while the president is dead or incommunicado.”
Morrison sat in his chair, speechless, watching Latimer’s face—no, seeing through Latimer, beyond the office and the walls, beyond the place and the moment. He knew that at the seat of government there were moments like this, when history was converging to a point, when the event horizon rears up and smacks you in the face. He always knew that the power concentrated in the government of the United States was awesome—that the potential always existed for a truly awesome miscalculation. The world had been lucky so far. It had come to the brink many times. But there had always been time—time to think it through, work it out, step back from the edge. Huge decisions usually evolved slowly by design.
Our entire system of government was based on making that time available, he thought. The checks and balances, so often the brunt of political cartoonist’s attacks is the genius of our system—the built-in delay to keep any sector of government from going off half-cocked. And this, this was un-American. Paul was telling him there was no more time for analysis, no more time for consultations, no more time to search for other options.
“I’m sorry, Paul. You can’t just shove this down my throat and say ‘here it is, do it, I’ll show you the evidence later.’ How do we know this is a military conspiracy? We’re talking about Morgan Slaider, for chrissake. This man is a national hero. Do you have hard evidence? If you do, why are we playing games? Arrest the son of a bitch. But if you don’t, we have to look in directions we’re more certain of and not get sidetracked. There obviously is something going on. The whole northeast power grid is down. We’ve had an attempted assassination. Who knows who else is vulnerable? Is Emerson being so mysterious, are his actions so unlikely considering what we are dealing with?”
“Emerson is dead, Frank. Slaider is not protecting anyone. He is having them killed. The evidence is not the kind that would stand up in a court of law. It was obtained illegally. Both Brock and Talbot have talked to me. Both have admitted stupidly ignoring Slaider’s association with hired killers and to get a handle on his henchmen they have had to get into the slime in ways that would not look good on CBS News. There is no way out of this except by the route the constitution provides. I’ve already started the process, Frank. I’m not asking your permission. I’m asking for your cooperation.”
“My cooperation. Are you crazy. The president is dead? How do you know that? If your evidence won’t stand up in court, why should I believe your evidence? You could be wrong and Emerson could be right, that we are all in danger and the safety of our nation requires that we join him. You have evidence against Slaider but you can’t use it. Where have I heard that before? To the country this won’t look like a very strong case. It will look like you’re trying to take advantage of a situation to arrogate powers to yourself that you shouldn’t have. Frankly, Paul, a good case could be made that you are fomenting a coup, that the conspiracy is yours.”
Latimer began to tap his desktop with his fountain pen. After several seconds he asked Morrison, “What about the speaker. He’s no fool. He knows we are waiting for his assurances. He knows the precarious state of our government and the nation at this moment. Why then haven’t we heard from him? What or who is preventing him from reporting back? He’s been with the president for at least four hours now.”
“I don’t know, Paul. Emerson’s order was for implementation of the relocation plan. You know as well as I do the plan does not allow for discussion about whether we all go or not. If the president declares a national security emergency and invokes the plan, we go. He’s done that and we haven’t gone. Maybe we haven’t heard from the speaker because it violates the plan protocols to do so. You know that. And the procedures are on automatic pilot. That could be it.”
Latimer did not speak. He continued to watch Morrison.
Frank Morrison stood up and began to pace. “Have there been any unusual military movements?” he asked.
“Only what we would have expected—nothing unusual considering the circumstances. Of course all our military forces have been place at DEFCON 4. Locally, the military is behaving exactly as it should to impose military control over Washington. Military police and governance units from North Carolina and Georgia are being made ready in the event they must go to New York. And that’s the whole point Frank. It’s not unusual considering the circumstances. But what we end up with is a military government in Washington and at the seat of the United Nations. And
no one will object. In fact the military will be praised until it is all over and too late.”
“But Paul, think about it. Until what is over? What can Slaider do?—declare himself king? If he is behind all this, where is he going with it? Aren’t we wasting valuable time by not following Emerson’s directive? Aren’t we risking the lives of key members of our government by not moving them immediately to the relocation sites? I mean, your evidence against Morgan isn’t evidence. It sounds more like a political smear job. If bombs start exploding and our leaders start getting killed, how will you explain your failure to follow the president ‘s directive?”
Latimer stood up. “Frank, I’ve got to move on from here. Let me end this discussion with the hope that your rosy scenario is correct. However, we cannot run this government with the chairman of the joint chiefs of staff acting as messenger boy between the president and the rest of our government. Either Emerson is fit to serve at this moment or he isn’t. If he isn’t I want the machinery in place to move on with that knowledge as soon as it can be verified. And if he is, I will be no less delighted than I am sure you will be to see his steady hand on the helm once again. Think about what I have said.” He paused for a second and added, “Especially before you talk to any reporters.”
60
Frank Morrison walked to his car. He was surprised to see that the usual marine guard was not at his post and that Secret Service agents had taken over the detail normally held by the marine captain. He got into his car and drove away as he tried desperately to organize what he had heard from the vice president. The call tone on his car scrambler phone sounded. It was Senator Paxton.”
“Frank, have you spoken with the vice president yet?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve heard about the vice president’s plans?”
“Yes, Senator. The vice president certainly hasn’t given me much time to think about the actions he’s proposing.
“Welcome to the club, Frank.”
“What do you think the senate leadership will recommend?” Morrison asked.
“Well, Frank, let’s you and me talk about this. Why don’t you come over here to the Hill.”
“Actually, Jeb, I’m not sure whether it’s safe to do that.”
“Well, son, there are guards and police and soldiers just about everywhere over here. I’ve got a Secret Service agent in front of my damned door and I’m not sure if he’s there to keep trouble out or me in. But come on over, Frank. I think maybe we should talk.”
On his way, Frank Morrison called the White House communication center to let them know where he was going. He was suddenly astonished at the doubt in the back of his mind regarding what had always been for him a routine action. He was not sure anymore whether he wanted the White House communications officer to know where he was or where he was going and it frightened him that this thought was in him.
He picked up his phone and called his secretary to have her arrange for the FBI director and the CIA director to call him at Senator Paxton’s office. Finally, he had time for one more call before arriving at the Senate Office Building parking lot. He called his wife to let her know he was okay. This action too was unusual and it too disturbed him with the novelty of the feelings it aroused.
At the door to Senator Paxton’s office, Morrison acknowledged the presence of the Secret Service agent. Knocking on the door, he quickly entered Paxton’s outer office. Paxton’s secretary ushered him into the inner office.
‘Hello, Senator. Is there anything new?”
“No, nothing. Sit down, Frank. Sit down.”
Paxton began to tap tobacco into his pipe. Then he carefully lit it, not drawing too hard, just enough to get an even light.
“Well, son, either this is just the almighty damnedest misfortune or we’re dealin’ with one hell of a smart son of a bitch. I just don’t know what to make of this Slaider business. I figured just like everyone else that he was stepping in and doing one right smart job of protectin’ the president. I’m not sure what to make of Latimer’s charges. Washington is a disaster, New York and the whole damned northeast is on the verge of disaster. It seems that we’re dealing with something pretty big here, Frank, with or without the general.”
“Jeb, what are you and the senate leadership going to do?”
“That’s a right good question, son, seeing as how the Congress is not in session and only the president can call us into special session. And with the speaker incommunicado . . . I mean I’m not sure how exactly the vice president is going to go about invoking the Twenty-fifth Amendment . . . without a speaker of the house. That’s why I say, Frank, that this is either the most infelicitous timing or we are dealing with an insidious mind indeed in his knowledge of our constitutional ways.”
“So what the hell do we do, Jeb?”
“Well, son, as for me, I’ve been doing a good deal of praying that the vice president’s suspicions regarding General Slaider are untrue.”
“Forgive me, Senator, but that doesn’t seem to be quite up to the mark, considering the challenge that the vice president will throw at the Congress in less than one hour.”
“But Frank, suppose the Congress chooses not to convene?”
“Look, you can’t just play congressional chicken with the vice president. We need to have somebody running the country.”
“My boy, then I suggest you go and find your president, because he gave General Slaider a written presidential order to move the executive branch of government to the hardened White House. That’s where he is. Go there and find out what he is doing there.”
“But what if General Slaider is orchestrating a coup? What if he is trying to take over the government of the United States? We will all be essentially under house arrest once we submit to the relocation plan?”
“Frank, be reasonable. What is General Slaider going to do? How can he take over the government of this country? Remember, this is America, not Panama. He can’t just station soldiers at the doors of Congress and say ‘I am in charge now.’ We are a nation of laws. He would receive no support. Congress would remove him.”
“Suppose he continues to operate through executive orders from a President we no longer see or talk to directly?”
“Frank, you exaggerate. This game, if that’s what he’s doin’, can’t be kept up for too long. My constituents wouldn’t accept it. The country wouldn’t accept it. Days only, Frank. That’s the most this can go on. I don’t believe Emerson is dead. Go find your president.” Senator Paxton put down his pipe.
“Senator, is this the consensus of the other congressional leaders? Are you saying that they will not support a special session called by the vice president? And while you are calling Emerson ‘my president’ instead of ‘our president’ have you forgotten about ‘your’ speaker of the house? What has happened to him and why has he not communicated with anyone since being conveyed by the military to see Emerson?”
‘Frank, do you believe that Emerson is dead? That the speaker is dead or under military incarceration?”
“Senator, I don’t want to believe that either man is dead or a captive or god knows what. But that is not the point. We can’t make decisions in this matter based on what we want to be happening but rather on what is happening. We may not have days, senator. We may only have hours. It is not the mission of the chairman of the joint chiefs to stand around and debate when the president invokes the relocation plan. It is his job to see that it happens and that it happen quickly and efficiently and thoroughly.”
“And it would appear that he has started with the speaker,” Paxton added.
The telephone rang. Senator Paxton picked it up. “It’s for you, Frank.” He handed Frank Morrison the phone. While he waited he relit his pipe. Morrison listened for several seconds and hung up without saying a word.
“Senator, that was my office. I was expecting a call here from Talbot and Brock. Roger Talbot is under military escort to the underground White House. I can only assume other members of the
relocation government will be found and escorted to Emerson’s hideout. Paul Latimer told me he tried getting with the secretary of defense to muzzle Slaider, take him out of the loop and have all communication with the president go through him instead. Surprise, surprise. The secretary of defense has reportedly been escorted to the hardened White House. I, of course, am on the list as well. Amanda Brock is for the moment missing in action.
“Also, the governor of New York has asked for a declaration of martial law and is mobilizing the state national guard. He has asked for regular army troops to be prepared to support the local regiments if needed. He is having his attorney general meet with the guard commander to work out the military governance protocols for the local law enforcement officials.”
“Don’t take it so hard, Frank. I believe this will all be over in a very few days. The president is just being prudently cautious. And frankly, so is Governor Esterberry. New York has had a need for a dose of good military discipline for some time now. A few days might do them right well, Frank—right well indeed.”
Morrison rubbed his head and the back of his neck with his hands, trying to compose his thoughts. “You don’t get a sense of all this spiraling out of control, Jeb? That this is escalating into something other than what we see? You don’t have a tingle in the hairs at the back of your neck? You really think this is all going to be over in a few days?”
“I do indeed, Frank. That’s exactly what I think. And I think you and the cabinet and Mr. Latimer should haul ass over to the president of these United States and get this vacuum suckin’ away at our body politic turned off right quick. General Slaider is not and cannot take over the government of the United States and the sooner the executive branch gets its act together the sooner we can stop lookin’ to the rest of the world like a powerful and dangerous animal that is out of control.”
Frank Morrison rose from his chair. “Thank you, Senator, for taking the time to share your insights with me. I must, however, leave you with one thought—suppose Senator, just suppose, that you are wrong? Suppose Morgan went over the edge about Emerson sharing the military’s solid laser technology with Cranshaw. Suppose he went over the edge with Emerson’s plan to share everything with the United Nations. Suppose this is true and Morgan believes he is being a patriot in wresting control from Emerson. What then? It’s not a pretty picture. It’s what Paul is asking us to believe.” When he reached the door, he turned again to Senator Paxton. “I’ll think about what you said, Senator. You think about what I said.”
On Deception Watch Page 23