President Elect, page 14
The President-elect was wearing a pale blue dress shirt. Gerry pictured a knife appearing in the middle of it, bright red blood flowing from the wound, staining Monroe’s expensive designer shirt.
“Why don’t you tell me what they are, Jeff, and we’ll see if we can work them out.”
“You don’t know?” Monroe said.
Gerry shook his head. “Not offhand. Things seem to be going well. We zoomed in here pretty much like I said we would, more than two months before your actual inauguration. The election fraud investigation is basically dead. There’s nothing but daylight ahead of us. We are no longer fighting the power. We are the power.”
Monroe turned around. He looked tired—more tired than Gerry had probably ever seen him, and Gerry had campaigned with him sixteen hours a day for months on end. Gerry imagined that the old boy wasn’t sleeping much. Gerry wasn’t sleeping either, but he was twenty years younger than his boss and built for lack of sleep.
“That’s one way to look at it,” Monroe said.
Gerry smiled.
They were alone in the Oval Office, two men at the very top of the power structure that ran the entire world. In Gerry’s mind’s eye, he saw Washington, DC, and its environs—the Capitol Building, the Supreme Court, the monuments to history, the many federal agencies and lobbying firms, the Beltway, all of it, extending out into the suburbs, and then the far exurbs. The whole thing existed as a life support system for this very room. Gerry O’Brien and Jefferson Monroe were standing inside the womb of creation. If only he could make Monroe understand this.
“Show me a different way to look at it,” Gerry said.
The old man began to tick items off his fingers.
“The Acting President spent the night crying in her room, so I’m told. She is horrified that we have threatened nuclear war against the Chinese, and has yet to emerge from the White House Residence. I’ve been informed that she told her own staff she would like to walk the threats back, and perhaps host a meeting with the Chinese President to clear up any misunderstanding.”
Gerry shook his head. Karen White couldn’t hang. That much was clear. “Let me speak with Karen,” he said. “I’ll go upstairs and see her right after I leave this room.”
Monroe nodded. “I wish you would.”
“I will. Next?”
“The Joint Chiefs are in open revolt at the prospect of attacking China. Not necessarily the fact of it, but the timing. Everything I’m hearing is that we are not ready to hit them within two days. Such an operation would normally take months of preparation and coordination. As I understand it, we have to be ready for the Chinese counter-strike. Since we told them what we’re going to do, when, and where, their counter-strike will likely come immediately after our attack, and possibly even before it. The generals are very disturbed by this possibility, and are telling me the situation could quickly spiral out of control.”
Gerry took a deep breath. “The Chinese are going to back down and evacuate those islands. I know they are. I know it because we’re strong and they’re weak. But that’s beside the point. The generals need to get on our page in the playbook, or we need to bring in better generals. These people have to recognize that civilians control the military, and not the other way around. They do what we tell them to do. What about the guy who was Chairman of the Joint Chiefs until Hopkins had him arrested a couple of years ago? The one who wanted to launch a massive first strike against Russia?”
Monroe nodded. “Robert Coates.”
“Right,” Gerry said. “He’s out of jail, isn’t he?”
“He’s been out for a year. They went easy on him, considering that what he did amounted to an impromptu coup attempt. He was stripped of rank and discharged from the military.”
One thing Gerry loved about Jefferson Monroe was his easy knowledge of who people were and what they were doing. He was the ultimate gossip columnist. He was more than just a people person—he was an encyclopedia of people. He was a politician to his core, a man who never forgot a face, or a name.
“You know him?”
Monroe nodded. “I’ve known him for thirty years. He’s okay. He’s also about as hawkish as they come.”
“Let’s bring him on board.”
Now the President-elect shrugged. “Susan’s National Security Advisor, Kurt Kimball, is missing in action. Whatever he thinks he’s doing by not showing up here, it’s a dereliction of duty at best, and treason at worst. We can replace him with Coates and we don’t need to ask anyone’s permission—no Senate hearings, nothing of the sort.”
“Done,” Gerry said. “I’ll have my staff track him down and get him in here this afternoon. He’s probably still got people inside the Pentagon. He can get the ball rolling in the right direction.”
Gerry paused, but only for a second. It was exhilarating moving pieces around the board like this. Jefferson Monroe needed someone to do his thinking for him, and The Shark was just the man for it. It was a delicious irony that Monroe was keeping track of events, and reporting them to Gerry. It was clear who made the decisions around here.
“Next?”
“The security fences that we’re building around Chinatowns. The press is killing us on this. I’m afraid we’re starting to look really, really bad. The ACLU is filing motions to put a stop to construction in all four cities where it’s happening. Protests are popping up everywhere, especially at the construction sites. Police are holding back the demonstrators for now, but it’s early. Soon we might have to send in the National Guard to keep the workers safe. And even that night not matter. In New York City, the labor unions told their members to walk off the job sites. As of early this morning, they’ve done exactly that. Work on the barriers there has ground to a halt.”
That kind of thing made Gerry want to scream. Who were these people to undermine the safety and security of the United States? Who were they to go against the wishes of the White House?
“So we bring in scabs if we have to,” he said. “And we water cannon the demonstrators.”
Monroe shook his head. “Gerry, you’re a smart man. You know that’s not how things happen. We’re moving very fast here, maybe too fast. There’s pushback, and you can’t always steamroll your way over it. It’s much too soon for water cannons and replacement workers. And I don’t think I have to tell you that the side with the water cannons is the side that eventually loses.”
“Spoken like a true politician,” Gerry said.
“I was in the Senate for twenty-four years.”
“We ran as outsiders, Jeff. And the people who voted for you want things done. They don’t want to wait.”
They stared at each other for a long moment. Gerry could already see this bogging down into a quagmire of court cases and public relations battles. That was bad. But the whole thing could be cured if war with China broke out. What public figure wanted to be seen as in bed with the enemy?
“Listen, here’s how I see it,” Gerry said. “There is long precedent for detaining possible enemies of the state, especially during wartime. We put more than a hundred thousand Japanese in internment camps during World War Two.
“Much more recently, there was REX 84 and REX 97, Readiness Exercises 1984 and 1997, respectively. In the event of a national emergency, both plans called for the suspension of the Constitution, the declaration of martial law, the replacement of elected officials with military personnel, and the detainment of large numbers of American citizens deemed as security threats.
“And they were both based on Operation Garden Plot, the plan written in 1970 during the Nixon administration, which called for widespread detentions of up to twenty-one million people. Elements of Operation Garden Plot are still in place. We’re not doing anything out of the ordinary. We’re not outliers here.”
“Most people aren’t aware of those plans,” Monroe said. “And the internment of the Japanese in camps is now considered a disgraceful and embarrassing episode.”
Gerry pointed at him. “Exactly. The Japanese were taken from their homes and put in camps, often without warning. They lost everything they owned, and their lives came to a sudden halt. What we’re doing is a lot more humane. The Chinese can stay in their homes and they can keep all their stuff. They can go on about their business. And we know where they are at all times. It’s the best of both worlds.”
Jefferson Monroe stared at him another long while, then suddenly broke into a smile. “We did it, son. Didn’t we?”
Now Gerry smiled as well. “We sure did.”
“I was skeptical of you at first,” Monroe said. “But you know that already. I didn’t like people from New York City—so brash, so pushy, and so obnoxious. It’s too much! The world revolves around them, or least they think it does.”
“Thanks,” Gerry said.
“Well, that’s my point, isn’t it? I won’t say I was wrong all those years. I still think many people from New York are the worst of the worst. I hate them. But that doesn’t include you. You’re brash, you’re pushy, but you back it up with real knowledge and real ability and a work ethic as strong as any down-home country person I’ve ever known. I am proud to know you. I think we make an incredible team.”
Monroe paused and looked around the room as if he’d never seen it before. It was quite a place. “This is the Oval Office, and we own it for the next four years.”
Gerry nodded. “You bet.”
And inside he thought:
What do you mean “we”?
* * *
“How are you feeling, Karen?” Gerry said.
Karen White, the Acting President of the United States, was sitting at the breakfast nook in the upstairs Family Kitchen of the White House Residence. On the white Formica table in front of her was a half-eaten banana, still inside its peel, and a bowl of oatmeal she appeared not to have touched. A dark circle of brown sugar had solidified on top of the cold gruel.
She was, however, sipping slowly from a coffee mug.
“I’m feeling fine,” she said, a hint of defensiveness in her voice. Why wouldn’t there be? It was after nine o’clock, and she was still in here. Workdays at the White House started early and ran late. The day had raced out ahead of her, and she showed very little interest in catching up.
She was wearing some kind of light purple pantsuit, with a matching beret or tam-o’-shanter on her head. The suit had very subtle moons and stars etched on it. You had to look twice to really see them. The suit, combined with the hat, made her look like some kind of teacher at a school for wizards—a wizard professor.
Her eyes were puffy and red, probably from crying. That ruined the effect somewhat. As far as Gerry knew, wizards didn’t cry.
Gerry stood in the doorway. He glanced around. The nearest Secret Service agent stood about fifteen feet away, a little bit down the hall. The man was giving them room to talk. Good.
“A bit of a roller coaster ride we’re on,” Gerry said, offering up the understatement of the morning.
“If you want to call it that.”
Gerry smirked. “What would you like to call it?”
Karen shook her head. She didn’t look at him at all. Instead, she gazed down at her oatmeal and began to stir it slowly, making a spiral out of the brown sugar.
“Don’t pretend events are outside your control, Gerry. I’m not an idiot. I know what you’re doing. You’re manipulating everything from behind the scenes. And don’t think for a minute that I’m the only one who sees it. I wouldn’t be surprised to see your skinny ass in front of a firing squad before too much longer.”
Gerry’s smile faded. Now he just stared. He felt cold toward her, empty, like she was a bug, something to be stepped on. President? President of what? She didn’t even command this room.
“Karen, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Something in his tone made her look up. Their eyes met.
“No?” she said. “Let me ask you a question. Did you murder Susan Hopkins and Marybeth Horning? I tend to think that you did.”
“Karen…” What did you say to an accusation like that? His first thought was: Susan Hopkins isn’t dead. She’s still out there somewhere, and we’re going to find her.
“It was all a little convenient, wouldn’t you say? Susan is about to step down, Marybeth dies, and suddenly I’m President.”
“Would you prefer if you weren’t? That would be easy enough to arrange.”
Her eyes hardened. “Your lizard brain probably won’t understand this, but I liked Susan and Marybeth. They were rivals of mine, and good strong women. We agreed on almost nothing, but I respected them, and they respected me. I would rather see the worst tax-and-spend liberal instincts realized as policy in this country than to see either one of those women die by violence.”
Gerry shook his head. He’d had enough. It was time to pull the plug on Karen. And the solution to the Karen problem was as simple and as elegant as a lightning strike. He hadn’t been planning to enact it this early, but why not? In for a penny, in for a pound, as Gerry’s old grandmother used to say.
“They didn’t respect you, Karen. Please put that idea out of your mind.”
She dismissed him with a sudden wave of her hand. “They did respect me. That’s something you’ll never—”
“Karen, how could they possibly respect you? You’re a basket case. You’re a national laughingstock. Look at your career in the House. What measures have you ever put forward that showed any discernible results? Wait… never mind that. Forget it. Look at what you’re wearing. You’re the President of the United States, Karen! This isn’t the fourth grade play.”
Her eyes were on fire now. She glared at him in something like rage. But whatever she was thinking or feeling, her mouth couldn’t find a way to express it. And that was because her synapses were gummed up with drugs.
Gerry pushed on, lining up the kill shot.
“Here’s what I know about you, Karen. Please don’t try to deny it, because I have copies of all the paperwork, I know the aliases you use, and I’ve traced everything back to you. I have the doctors who write your scripts, and I have the hammer poised above their heads. Think they won’t give you up to save their medical licenses? Think again.
“You’re mentally ill, Karen, and you’ve been hiding it for years. You’re on serotonin re-uptake inhibitors for major depression, at least three different prescriptions. You’re on both Xanax and Ativan for anxiety, and you’re probably addicted to them. You take Ambien to fall asleep at night, and you take Adderall to wake up in the morning. You’re on an anti-psychotic medication, usually given to schizophrenics, to help you manage your obsessive-compulsive disorder.”
He paused. The Family Kitchen had suddenly become very quiet. She had turned away from him and was now staring at the wall. It was an odd thing for an adult to do, but Karen really was an overgrown child, wasn’t she?
“You’re a pill popper, Karen, and you’re an absolute mess. And don’t think for a minute that I’m the only one who knows this.”
She just kept staring at the wall, saying nothing. Something about that bothered him, and in an instant, he knew what it was. She was trying to escape from him. She was trying to maintain some small semblance of freedom from the power of his will.
Well, he wouldn’t stand for it.
“Look at me, Karen.”
She shook her head the slightest amount. “I can’t.”
“You will look at me right this minute. Either that, or I will walk back downstairs to my office and anonymously leak your medical records to the Washington Post, the New York Times, and CNN, all at once. I will connect the dots for them. An hour from now, your political career will be over. Is that what you want?”
Her voice was small. “No.”
“Then turn around and look at me.”
She did as she was told. She moved slowly, creakily, like some ancient wind-up toy. It took a long moment before she could raise her eyes to meet his. The fire was long gone. She was his prisoner now, and she knew it. He could do whatever he wished with her. She knew that, too.
“Here’s how we’re going to play this,” he said. “You’re going to go back to your quarters, clean yourself up, and change your clothes. You’re going to dress like a big girl today. If you don’t know how to do that, I will send one of my staffers to help you find something to wear. We’ll order something in if we need to. Still with me?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, once you are dressed like an adult, you are going to make two moves in very quick succession. They will both happen this very afternoon. The first is you are going to appoint Jefferson Monroe as your Vice President. The second is you are going to resign, and Jeff is going to take over as President. He’s going to become President in two months anyway, so we might as well get started now.”
She shook her head. “But what will people—”
“Karen, you’re not in a position to ask any questions. Your only job now is to do exactly what I tell you to do. Is that understood?”
She went right back to being the abject child. “Yes.”
Gerry nodded. He enjoyed his power over her. If only she were young and beautiful, this little meeting could get a lot more interesting.
“Good. If you choose, you can go right back to being Speaker of the House. I don’t care. If I were you, I think I would check into a nice, quiet rehab for a few months and start to wean myself off all these drugs, but that’s up to you. Once you step down, I’m going to leave you alone and let you do whatever you want.”
He started to leave, but then stopped again. He raised his index finger.
“Keep this in mind, though. I’m not going anywhere. If you ever mess with me or Jefferson, if you try to block a vote from going our way in the House, if you say one disparaging word in public about either of us, I will drop the bomb on you. I will ruin you. Do you understand?”
