by Mark Spaid
“Hello, Clarise. Please have a seat.”
“Thank you, Madam President.”
“What’s on the agenda today?”
“Abandoned spouses.”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you read that paper I sent you last week?”
“Clarise, it was three hundred pages. I don’t have time to read that much. Can you summarize it for me?”
“I think so. There’s a growing problem in this country.”
“Yes, there are many of those.”
“I know but I have one that is very disturbing to me.”
“Okay, go ahead.”
“It’s about the abuse of women.”
“Men have been abusing women for decades,” Ellen reminded her.
“For centuries,” Clarise added.
“Okay, you’re right but I was referring to recent times.” Clarise stopped and took a breath. She was a person of passion, almost pure passion and when she hit a topic that irked her, she’d pace, wring her hands, talk non-stop all with fascial and hand gestures. It was her exclamation point. “Try and relax, Clarise…take a breath.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” She breathed in and wiggled her fingers which was her warm –up.
“Go on, I want to hear your ideas.”
“Recent laws in many states have attempted to prevent physical abuse of women stuck in bad relationships.”
“And that’s good I take it?”
“Yes, but now the men are finding another way to get around the law and still punish their wives and girlfriends.”
“How?” Ellen asked.
“Make them homeless.”
“You mean kick them out?”
“Exactly. They don’t have to pay alimony; they don’t go to jail for abuse and they get rid of their partner so they can be alone or go on to someone else.”
“And of course, the men are usually the breadwinner and in many if not most cases the house or the apartment is in the man’s name.”
“Yes, Madam President. So, the man does not break any laws and he gets what he wants plus he makes his partner’s life miserable.”
“Well that’s unacceptable. What are you proposing?”
“Garnish their wages, provide housing, food, clothes, whatever it takes.”
“So, these jilted women become a ward of the state?”
“Only temporarily, Madam President.”
“Explain.”
“They’d be given temporary housing and food vouchers until they get on their feet. If they have jobs then they’ll be on their own after a couple of months.”
“If no job?”
“We find one for them.”
“Kids, what if he throws the kids out too?”
“Then it gets complicated.”
“I’ll say.”
“Madam President, we have to help these women.”
“I agree but now we need a strategy. You need to meet with Darin Waters, my legislative liaison. You two can work out the framework for a bill.”
“Thank you, Madam President.”
“Anytime, Clarise.” Clarise got up to leave then turned to Ellen.
“Enjoy your trip abroad.”
“I hope so,” Ellen said as she returned to her desk. “Well that wasn’t exactly Pollyanna Clarise,” Ellen said then chuckled. There wasn’t much chuckle time for the President of the United States. The responsibility was overwhelming. As vice-President her day was one of boredom on top of more boredom from the previous day followed by more boredom the next day. She cut ribbons, read to kindergarten classes, met with spelling bee champions and attended funerals that the President couldn’t fit into his schedule. She knew that when she agreed to run for the second spot so, it wasn’t a surprise but that didn’t make it any less stifling. Now, as President for the last ten months every day was on the precipice of crisis. She wasn’t complaining but it was demanding and at the end of the day she was exhausted.
“Ma’am, it’s your husband,” Bonnie said from the doorway to the oval office.
“Oh, yeah, I forgot about that guy. I wonder what became of him.”
“He married the President then disappeared,” a voice replied.
“Hello, Don.” Ellen said as she got up from her desk and they hugged. They met in college and married after they both finished law school. She was a civil litigator and he was a criminal lawyer for a big firm in D.C. His schedule was less packed than hers but he was gone to New York and Chicago frequently which meant their time together was rare…two kids, Shelly (Michelle) and Brian. She was seventeen and he fourteen. They attended a private academy in D.C. and saw their mother on occasion when she was in the Whitehouse. Their father even less because he was out of town so often or holed up in his office preparing a case for trial. In their own way the two children had begun to accept their fate and lived with it…not happily but it wasn’t up to them. No, being President was not conducive to a healthy family life.
“How’s the commander in chief?”
“Busy, buried in things to do, tired, etc.”
“I can imagine, you know there should be a day every week that you just take off. When I was a kid the town doctor was always off on Thursday. He took every Thursday off no matter what. He deserved it and I don’t think anyone held it against him.”
“Sounds like a great story but I’m lucky to have time for lunch.”
“Sit down, babe,” Don said and they took chairs across from one another.
“How is the Stern case going?”
“Not bad, I think I can get a plea of manslaughter. Maybe he’ll be out in ten years or even less.”
“Good for him.”
“Are you ready for your trip?”
“I guess so. You know, I’ll miss being President and having someone pack my suitcases for me. Bonnie does all that now.”
“Maybe I can borrow her for my next trip to Chicago.” Ellen grinned and leaned back to rest.
“She doesn’t come cheap.” Don chuckled then looked at his wife
“You look tired.”
“I am.”
“Heavy is the head that wears the crown.”
“Funny,” She said with her eyes closed.
“Are you worried about the summit?”
“It’s not an official summit, haven’t you read the papers,” she said with a grin.
“When the Presidents of Russia and the United States meet, it’s a summit.”
“Touché.”
“Ma’am, I’m sorry to interrupt.”
“That’s okay, Bonnie we were just solving all the world’s problems,” Ellen said as she sat up and moved to the edge of her chair. Don chuckled and smiled.
“Promise Academy called and Brian is in the principal’s office.”
“So soon, it’s only been three days since he was last in trouble,” Ellen said.
“I’ll go,” Don said. If Ellen went it would mean a caravan of cars with secret service agents everywhere, sirens and the works. Don would go with his usual five agents and no sirens.
“Thanks.” Ellen said and Don left. “Sometimes I wish I weren’t President, Bonnie, if nothing else for the children.”
“No, Ma’am, the country needs you.”
“Loyalty, Bonnie?”
“No, Ma’am, oh yes, I’m loyal to you but it’s bigger than that. This country has needed the wisdom of a woman at the helm for a long time and now we have that.” Ellen looked at Bonnie and nodded as she grinned.
“You sound like Will Rogers.”
“Who?” Ellen sighed.
“Bonnie, we need to talk more,” Ellen said grinning.
CHAPTER THREE
“President Deniken, may I have a word with you?”
“Certainly, Vasily, come in and join me for tea.”
“Thank you,” Vasily Boronovitch said as he sat down and poured himself a cup. Vasily was an aide to the Russian President, his press secretary and domestic advisor. The Russian president had fewer people attendi
ng, because there was less of a need and it was harder to find people to trust in Russia. That may seem like a comment born of American jingoism but it was simply the fact and President Deniken or any Russian president would be the first to echo agreement.
“Are we ready for this thing?”
“I hope so, sir.”
“Security?”
“Heavy, we have sixteen agents.”
“That’s all; Zhadonov won’t be happy. Vladimir Zhadonov was head of security for President Deniken.
“He’s never happy.”
“No, he’s not,” Sergei said and laughed.
“That’s all that was allowed.”
“It’ll have to do. I can see the need to pare back so it doesn’t look like we’re scared of violence. The American Secret Service isn’t happy about the number either.”
“Should we be doing this in an area that is largely pro-Russian?”
“Would you rather we do it in a pro-western area?”
“Well, to be frank, sir, yes I would.” Sergei nodded agreement.
“Yes, I suppose we should admit that the west can control their people better than we control ours.”
“Melenkov wanted to come along and sit next to you.” Sergei shook his head and grinned. Viktor Melenkov was an opposition leader who trumpeted the extreme pro-Russian stance that included nearly all of what Kulagin wanted.
“Big surprise.”
“He wants your job, sir.”
“I know, they all do.”
“He’s dangerous, sir. If something happens to you, I don’t know if Berelenov can handle him.” Vladimir Berelenov was the prime minister and second in line of succession in Russia. He was a good man but kind of weak willed and easily bullied.
“Yes, he’s dangerous and so is Kulagin and his band of idiots.”
“We should arrest them both until the meeting is over and the treaty is signed,” Vasily suggested.
“That’s what they’d do if either one was in my chair. Remember they are both Stalinists.”
“Yes, and I know it’d send the wrong message but they’d like to see you dead sir.”
“So, would my wife sometimes.”
“Sir, I’m serious.”
“I know, Vasily, but we’ll have to do things by the law and hope for the best.”
“I’d take a bullet for you, sir, anytime.”
“Don’t, I’ll just duck instead.”
“Yes, sir.” They finished the day’s work together and a few times during the afternoon when he was busy Sergei would stop and think about what Vasily had said about taking a bullet and he’d shake his head and sigh. Had it come to that in Russia? Did he have a target on his back? Yes, sadly that was true.
* * *
“How many?”
“Two,” Victor Melenkov answered. He was meeting with a man clandestinely in a small coffee house in Volgograd complete with sunglasses, trench coats and hats pulled over their eyes. Great spy stuff right out of a James Bond novel but they felt it necessary and it worked.
“Is that enough?”
“Yes, I have good people and they’ll take out the Russian security people in the car.”
“And the American Secret Service?”
“Your guys will have to do that.”
“Good enough, they can.”
“Transportation is all set?”
“Yes, everything is ready, stop acting like a frightened school girl,” Kulagin said.
“Look, if this backfires, I’ll go to the gallows and so will you.”
“I know that. Risks are part of anything worth doing.”
“I’ll be in Moscow in Deniken’s office awaiting your word that he’s dead.”
“I thought you were going with him to Kerch?”
“I made a play for it but luckily he said no so now I have an excuse to be in Moscow.”
“Well done,” Kulagin said.
“What if we aren’t successful?”
“I have plans for that eventuality.”
“And, we wouldn’t survive under those plans I am guessing,” Melenkov posed.
“Then for our sakes let’s hope we’re successful,” Andrei said and his confederate walked out of the building.
* * *
“Trent, I don’t like our reduced numbers,” Johnny Rodriguez said as they sat in Trent’s office discussing security on the upcoming trip to Kerch.
“I hate it. We’re vulnerable, Johnny, and I don’t feel good about it at all.
“It’s going to be a dickens with a large crowd. The building is small.”
“I know but things are set. We don’t make the rules.”
“What about Wheaton?”
“What about him?”
“He’s kind of pushy.” Val Wheaton was a new guy just transferred over from the FBI and he was full of himself. We know how to do things in the FBI and you losers in the Secret Service are just lap dogs. That sort of mentality.
“Maybe but he does a good job. You agree with that don’t you?”
“Oh, sure, he’s grade A but the other guys aren’t crazy about him.”
“Jealous, are they?”
“A little I suppose,” Johnny said.
“Why?”
“He’s a suck up.” Trent laughed.
“Yeah, I guess he is but, in this town, you need to be a suck up. When Lyndon Johnson was Senate majority leader, he told a young senator that if he wanted to be successful in Washington he’d need to learn to suck up and suck up good.”
“I take it the young Senator was…”
“Yes, John Kennedy.”
“And, a few years later Kennedy was President and Johnson Vice-President, Kennedy was Johnson’s boss.”
“Right and who knows maybe someday Wheaton will be your boss,” Trent said laughing.
“Don’t remind me.”
“Okay, now here is the lineup for the plane, departure and arrival. We’ll work on the landing and the meeting on the plane.”
“Sounds good. I hope we’re ready since we leave in three days.”
“Me too, Johnny, me too.”
* * *
“Where are we Deke?” General Walter Zumwalt asked as he came into the main room of North American Air Defense NORAD located underground at the Cheyenne Mountain Complex in Colorado.
“A bogie, sir, another computer glitch.”
“Damn, I’d like to stop those. I’d hate to go to war over a ghost missile.”
“Makes two of us, sir.”
“Where’d it happen?”
“Over Alaska, sir.”
“Again?”
“Yes, sir, and we just replaced that unit six weeks ago.”
“Get a team up there.”
“I already sent them, sir.”
“Good job, Deke.”
“General Zumwalt, sir,” Barbara Alton said as she walked from her terminal to the General’s. His was elevated so he could get a good look at everything.
“Yes, Lieutenant.”
“We’re picking up Russian sub movement.”
“Where?”
“In the Mediterranean.”
“Those guys are flexing their muscles coming up on the meeting in Kerch,” General Zumwalt remarked with a grin.
“Also, in the South Atlantic, sir.”
“Well, that’s odd. Any reason that you can think of that they might be doing that. Have they been stagnant the past few days?”
“Yes, sir, the past four weeks they haven’t moved an inch,” Barbara said.
“I don’t like that, sir” Deke said.
“I don’t either, let’s keep a close eye on them. Give me anything you have on our satellites tracking them.”
“Yes, sir,” Barbara said.
“Sir, may I have a word?” Jerry Fillmore asked.
“Certainly, Sergeant.”
“Sir, I’ve been studying some satellite images over the Russian interior.”
“And?” Walter asked.
“Well, sir,
I’ve been doing this for about two months now.”
“Why?”
“I’m looking for any suspicious activity around their missile installations.”
“What have you seen?”
“It’s a lot of conjecture, sir.”
“I like conjecture, let’s have it. I trust your judgement, Sergeant, tell me what you’ve seen. Deke, you should see this too.” Deke came over to the general’s station as Sergeant Fillmore laid out some photographs.
“I thought everything was on a screen nowadays,” Deke posed.
“It is but I had these prints made so I could see them side by side. It helps with time frame and progression of movement.”
“Explain it to us,” Walter said after he glanced at the photos.”
“Sir, this is their Kapustin Yar launch site south of Volgograd. They have two hundred missiles there.”
“What are we looking for?”
“Sir, using the satellite photos coupled with a few U2 pictures I see a pattern,” Jerry said.
“What pattern?”
“This car.”
“What about it?” Walter asked.
“Sir, I think they’re casing the joint.”
“You mean spying on the silo location?”
“Yes, sir. The car is always pointed in the direction of the entrance.”
“Surely, you don’t think they could enter somehow. Their security is tight, maybe not like here but it’s good and some mug in a car can’t waltz in there,” Walter said.
“I know, sir, but anything’s possible.”
“Like what for instance?”
“They could mock the electronic entrance code.”
“That’s possible?” Deke asked.
“In theory, sir. I don’t know how sophisticated their security is,” Jerry replied.
“Can ours be breached?” Walter asked.
“I doubt it, sir.”
“But you’re not absolutely certain.”
“No, sir, I’m not.”
“Wow,” Walter said.
“Could they have a guy on the inside?” Deke asked.
“I’ve thought about that too, sir.”
“Sergeant, what do you think it means, that car being there so many days?”
“Just conjecture, sir,” Jerry replied.
“What conjecture, sergeant. Speak your mind the General and I want to hear your theory,” Deke said. Jerry looked at Deke and the general then drew a long breath.