Read Online Sedition (A Political Conspiracy Book 1) by Tom Abrahams - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tom Abrahams
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argue that you are not eligible.”
“On what grounds?”
“On the grounds that you are not ‘constitutionally’”—he used his fingers to indicate a set of quotes—“an officer.”
She hated air quotes. “Why not?” she growled.
“It’s an argument that predates the nineteenth century,” he answered. “In 1792, when Congress first developed the Act of Succession, there were politics involved.”
“Aren’t there always?” the Speaker sneered. Her aides snickered in subservient agreement.
“Yes, ma’am,” the lawyer agreed. He cleared his throat, adjusting his collar with his index finger. “In this case, Thomas Jefferson was secretary of state. His opponents did not want him atop the list. They bickered over who to place on top. It was decided that the president pro tempore should be immediately after the vice president. The Speaker of the House was next. James Madison, one of the authors of the Constitution, had a big problem with it. He wrote a letter to another founding father, Edmund Pendleton, in which he expressed concern over the Act.”
“What does the letter say specifically?”
“The letter reads, in part, ‘On another point the bill certainly errs. It provides that in case of a double vacancy, the Executive powers shall devolve on the President pro tempore of the Senate and he failing, on the Speaker of the House of Reps. The objections to this arrangement are various. 1. It may be questioned whether these are officers, in the constitutional sense.’”
“It’s a letter. It’s not the law,” the Speaker opined.
“Yes,” agreed the attorney. “But it is potential evidence. It was written by one of the Constitution’s authors. The point is salient enough that in 1886, the president pro tempore and Speaker of the House were dropped from the line of succession in favor of the president’s cabinet officers.”
“I imagine,” countered the Speaker, “that was political too?” Her aides snickered again as she stood from her desk and walked around it so as to sit in the high-back leather chair behind it.
“It was in deference to the emerging power of big business,” explained the lawyer. He pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed his forehead, then his bald spot. “The thought was to reward appointed officers as opposed to ambitious politicians.”
“Regardless”—the lawyer loosened the knot in his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt—“your position was removed for six decades. It wasn’t returned until 1947, as you know, when the Speaker and president pro tempore switched positions atop the line of succession. They will make these points. They will argue the lack of constitutionality based generally on these grounds. The court will listen.”
Chapter 12
Sir Spencer lumbered into a cab outside of the Hay-Adams and told the driver where to go. He sat in the right rear passenger’s seat. It was a cool night after what had been an abnormally warm day. The driver had the windows down and the radio turned up just enough to hear it over the whistle of the wind passing by the car.
Sir Spencer looked across Pennsylvania Avenue. He waited for a dark sedan to pass and then crossed. He could not see the camera pointed at him through the vehicle’s darkly tinted windows.
As he crossed the street, his eyes focused on a freshly painted red door, he noticed two men approaching from the east. He recognized them as his compatriots.
“Gentlemen.” Sir Spencer nodded in their direction as he stepped onto the curb in front of the bar. “Good to see you.” He extended his hand to Art Thistlewood.
“And you, Sir Spencer,” replied Thistlewood as he took his hand, “are looking as smart as ever.”
“Good to see you too, Sir Spencer,” George Edwards chimed in.
Sir Spencer nodded, smiled, and put his hand on the young artist’s back as they walked toward the red doors. “Splendid to be with you again, George.”
It was Sir
“On what grounds?”
“On the grounds that you are not ‘constitutionally’”—he used his fingers to indicate a set of quotes—“an officer.”
She hated air quotes. “Why not?” she growled.
“It’s an argument that predates the nineteenth century,” he answered. “In 1792, when Congress first developed the Act of Succession, there were politics involved.”
“Aren’t there always?” the Speaker sneered. Her aides snickered in subservient agreement.
“Yes, ma’am,” the lawyer agreed. He cleared his throat, adjusting his collar with his index finger. “In this case, Thomas Jefferson was secretary of state. His opponents did not want him atop the list. They bickered over who to place on top. It was decided that the president pro tempore should be immediately after the vice president. The Speaker of the House was next. James Madison, one of the authors of the Constitution, had a big problem with it. He wrote a letter to another founding father, Edmund Pendleton, in which he expressed concern over the Act.”
“What does the letter say specifically?”
“The letter reads, in part, ‘On another point the bill certainly errs. It provides that in case of a double vacancy, the Executive powers shall devolve on the President pro tempore of the Senate and he failing, on the Speaker of the House of Reps. The objections to this arrangement are various. 1. It may be questioned whether these are officers, in the constitutional sense.’”
“It’s a letter. It’s not the law,” the Speaker opined.
“Yes,” agreed the attorney. “But it is potential evidence. It was written by one of the Constitution’s authors. The point is salient enough that in 1886, the president pro tempore and Speaker of the House were dropped from the line of succession in favor of the president’s cabinet officers.”
“I imagine,” countered the Speaker, “that was political too?” Her aides snickered again as she stood from her desk and walked around it so as to sit in the high-back leather chair behind it.
“It was in deference to the emerging power of big business,” explained the lawyer. He pulled a handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed his forehead, then his bald spot. “The thought was to reward appointed officers as opposed to ambitious politicians.”
“Regardless”—the lawyer loosened the knot in his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt—“your position was removed for six decades. It wasn’t returned until 1947, as you know, when the Speaker and president pro tempore switched positions atop the line of succession. They will make these points. They will argue the lack of constitutionality based generally on these grounds. The court will listen.”
Chapter 12
Sir Spencer lumbered into a cab outside of the Hay-Adams and told the driver where to go. He sat in the right rear passenger’s seat. It was a cool night after what had been an abnormally warm day. The driver had the windows down and the radio turned up just enough to hear it over the whistle of the wind passing by the car.
Sir Spencer looked across Pennsylvania Avenue. He waited for a dark sedan to pass and then crossed. He could not see the camera pointed at him through the vehicle’s darkly tinted windows.
As he crossed the street, his eyes focused on a freshly painted red door, he noticed two men approaching from the east. He recognized them as his compatriots.
“Gentlemen.” Sir Spencer nodded in their direction as he stepped onto the curb in front of the bar. “Good to see you.” He extended his hand to Art Thistlewood.
“And you, Sir Spencer,” replied Thistlewood as he took his hand, “are looking as smart as ever.”
“Good to see you too, Sir Spencer,” George Edwards chimed in.
Sir Spencer nodded, smiled, and put his hand on the young artist’s back as they walked toward the red doors. “Splendid to be with you again, George.”
It was Sir
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