Hastings is citing a pending divorce and Schaller is claiming health issues at age thirty-two.”
“Yes, well, some are saying after meeting with the president five weeks ago and them asking rather forcefully about those very rumors that you just mentioned, they suddenly announced their decisions on retiring the very next day.”
“Your point?” he asked, getting angry.
“My point is most people on the Hill are saying the president threatened them.”
“How do you mean?”
She didn’t respond but just looked into the older man’s face. He slowly but surely caught her ominous drift.
“Then that makes meeting with CIA Director Easterbrook and our friend Peachtree essential.” He turned and made his way to the door. “And remember, we can toss around threats also and Daniel Peachtree has just the man to issue those threats.”
The assistant exhaled deeply as she pictured the little creep across the river at CIA. “I can’t stomach that little bastard and I wish you would not be associated with him in any way. That Hiram Vickers reminds me of some slinking pedophile the way he looks at people.” She shivered at the thought of the little black operations guru over at Langley. “And one more thing, sir, what makes you think it wasn’t Director Easterbrook who backed up the president’s threat?” she mumbled as she raced to catch up with her boss.
House Speaker Camden only froze for a second at the door as he slightly turned and answered her.
“That will be Dan Peachtree’s problem, as he stands to gain the most from … complications in the chain of command at Langley.”
* * *
As the Secret Service agent held the door open for the president, the chief executive paused a moment, took a deep breath, nodded at the agent, and tried to confidently stride into the Oval Office. The president saw his friend immediately. Director Niles Compton was at the window behind the Lincoln desk, looking out onto Pennsylvania Avenue and the five thousand men and women protesting in the street. The placards were offensive to say the least and were saying that the U.S. was on a road to dictatorship. Niles Compton knew his friend was anything but dictatorial. Being a military man from the time he was in college, the president was always terrified of being labeled right wing when actually he thought as many generals do when they got to a certain age: that military power is a dangerous thing in the wrong hands—and even sometimes in the right ones. Niles Compton knew the problem could be in no more capable hands than those of his old friend.
“I’m really surprised you’re not out there with them protesting my supposed and rumored military moves.”
“Maybe they wouldn’t be protesting if they knew the whole truth,” Niles Compton said as he turned away from the window to face the president.
The president didn’t respond as he stood before his own desk. He gestured for Niles to move.
“Unless you want this screwed up job, do you mind if I sit at my own desk, baldy?”
Niles smiled and then moved. He kept his hands in his pockets as he paced to the front of the room. The president looked momentarily out of the window, then allowed the lace curtain to fall back into place as he turned and sat.
“My so-called good friends in the senate are starting to jump ship. The briefing I gave them four years ago is starting to wear off and now they’re running for cover. The key people I needed on the hawk side of things have completely flown the coop. My friends on the other end of the spectrum are now feeling the heat because of these rumors and the fact we haven’t even had one sighting of anything from space other than our own junk falling from the sky.”
Niles finally turned and faced the president as he sat in one of the double-facing couches. He opened his old briefcase and removed a file. “In one brief moment of time many years ago you asked me how I would handle it. I told you.”
“You didn’t
“Yes, well, some are saying after meeting with the president five weeks ago and them asking rather forcefully about those very rumors that you just mentioned, they suddenly announced their decisions on retiring the very next day.”
“Your point?” he asked, getting angry.
“My point is most people on the Hill are saying the president threatened them.”
“How do you mean?”
She didn’t respond but just looked into the older man’s face. He slowly but surely caught her ominous drift.
“Then that makes meeting with CIA Director Easterbrook and our friend Peachtree essential.” He turned and made his way to the door. “And remember, we can toss around threats also and Daniel Peachtree has just the man to issue those threats.”
The assistant exhaled deeply as she pictured the little creep across the river at CIA. “I can’t stomach that little bastard and I wish you would not be associated with him in any way. That Hiram Vickers reminds me of some slinking pedophile the way he looks at people.” She shivered at the thought of the little black operations guru over at Langley. “And one more thing, sir, what makes you think it wasn’t Director Easterbrook who backed up the president’s threat?” she mumbled as she raced to catch up with her boss.
House Speaker Camden only froze for a second at the door as he slightly turned and answered her.
“That will be Dan Peachtree’s problem, as he stands to gain the most from … complications in the chain of command at Langley.”
* * *
As the Secret Service agent held the door open for the president, the chief executive paused a moment, took a deep breath, nodded at the agent, and tried to confidently stride into the Oval Office. The president saw his friend immediately. Director Niles Compton was at the window behind the Lincoln desk, looking out onto Pennsylvania Avenue and the five thousand men and women protesting in the street. The placards were offensive to say the least and were saying that the U.S. was on a road to dictatorship. Niles Compton knew his friend was anything but dictatorial. Being a military man from the time he was in college, the president was always terrified of being labeled right wing when actually he thought as many generals do when they got to a certain age: that military power is a dangerous thing in the wrong hands—and even sometimes in the right ones. Niles Compton knew the problem could be in no more capable hands than those of his old friend.
“I’m really surprised you’re not out there with them protesting my supposed and rumored military moves.”
“Maybe they wouldn’t be protesting if they knew the whole truth,” Niles Compton said as he turned away from the window to face the president.
The president didn’t respond as he stood before his own desk. He gestured for Niles to move.
“Unless you want this screwed up job, do you mind if I sit at my own desk, baldy?”
Niles smiled and then moved. He kept his hands in his pockets as he paced to the front of the room. The president looked momentarily out of the window, then allowed the lace curtain to fall back into place as he turned and sat.
“My so-called good friends in the senate are starting to jump ship. The briefing I gave them four years ago is starting to wear off and now they’re running for cover. The key people I needed on the hawk side of things have completely flown the coop. My friends on the other end of the spectrum are now feeling the heat because of these rumors and the fact we haven’t even had one sighting of anything from space other than our own junk falling from the sky.”
Niles finally turned and faced the president as he sat in one of the double-facing couches. He opened his old briefcase and removed a file. “In one brief moment of time many years ago you asked me how I would handle it. I told you.”
“You didn’t
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