Objective- Freedom Page 7

  “The final analysis is that no one knows what’s going on,” Governor Harris said, triggering chuckles throughout the room. They watched for an hour without learning anything new.

  Just as they were leaving, scenes flashed back to the White House, where Vice President Sutherland left without answering questions. President Curtis left next, and he also refused to answer questions. He got into his car and left for the vice president’s

  residence at Number One Observatory Circle, United States Naval Observatory, in Washington, DC.

  “Looks like the fertilizer has collided with the air handler again,” Governor Raven said. “It’s anyone’s guess what’s happening.”

  The guessing game in the White House was finished. President Curtis met privately with Vice President Sutherland. General Green and Ambassador Blakely conversed in the private office immediately to the right of the president’s desk. They did what they could, but the president needed to move quickly.

  “You wanted to see me, Mr. President? Actually, you ordered me here on my day off.” Vice President Sutherland made it more of an accusation than a question.

  “Yes. I ordered you here. Since you’re my chief of staff, I believe that’s my prerogative. If you have a problem with working, let me know. I’m sure we can find someone who places more value on the position.” Sutherland realized he’d gone too far. “No, Sir. I spoke out of line. What can I do for you?”

  “I want you to look at some pictures and explain them to me.” He handed Sutherland the envelope.

  Sutherland took the envelope to the table and sat down to look, his expression never changing. Curtis, who wasn’t a poker player, realized he never wanted to play against Sutherland. It was impossible to read him.

  Sutherland, finishing with the pictures, looked up. “These are obviously of me and a close friend. So what?”

  “So what? If this were to become public knowledge, it would damage the administration. It’s imperative that you terminate this relationship immediately.”

  “Sorry, Bob, but that’s not a prerogative of yours. You don’t tell me how to live my private life. Don’t ever presume that. I came in to help you when that old geezer, Elliott Randall, couldn’t swing enough votes for your reelection. You needed me then, and you still do. When your term’s up, you may need me the same way Nixon needed Ford. Don’t play rough with me. You aren’t capable of it.”

  “Mr. Vice President, it’s my prerogative to ask you to do the right thing. We must have credibility in this house, or we lose everything. We’re in an extremely delicate situation. You’ve always been the diplomatic one. Surely you can see the position this places us in.”

  “And you, Sir, must see my position. I’m also a citizen, and I don’t appreciate being spied on by my own government. I’m not sure it was my own government. Was it Jane Bond from England?

  “Don’t answer. I’ll thank you to mind your manners and obey the law. You’re on notice that I’ll live my life the way I always have. I’m not in the military, so there are no particular laws governing me. What you did is illegal and could cause you more trouble than you’ve already gotten us into.”

  President Curtis started to say he wasn’t responsible for it, but something told him to wait. He calmed his belligerence.

  Saying he backed down wasn’t accurate. He kept the small envelope, because it could be argued the pictures were taken anywhere. There was no evidence that the coke mirror was in the condominium he shared with the Colombian diplomat.

  Sutherland seized the moment. “If you have something more than this to bother me with, show me, or I’ll go back to my house and prepare to come to work tomorrow.”

  The president didn’t answer.

  “Then I bid you good day, Sir.” He walked from the office and went toward his car.

  President Curtis leaned on his desk. Despite being only middle aged, he felt defeated and worn out. There was no choice. He couldn’t turn the country over to a drug-using, philandering vice president. He just felt tired. It was exhausting seeing the government lurch along in a constant state of crisis management.

  Hearing the door close rather loudly, Ambassador Blakely and Ambassador Green came out to see what happened. The president relayed the conversation and added, “I failed again.”

  Ambassador Blakely went to the phone, dialed a number, and said, “Go ahead with the plan.”

  As she hung up, she knew a package was being delivered to Mrs. Sutherland at the Naval Observatory. There was no doubt that what was being done was for the good of queen and country and for England’s closest friend and protector. She was exceedingly happy to be working with Robert Curtis and Ray Green to save their country.

  Ambassador Green sat beside the president. “You did all you could do. There’s no way to threaten Sutherland, and we need secrecy to keep the British out of the picture.”

  Curtis nodded, though it didn’t make him feel any better. He knew he failed.

  “Relax, Mr. President,” Lady Catherine said. “Have a shot of Chivas Regal. You’ll receive a call within the hour that will solve your problems.”

  Curtis, eyeing her quizzically, said nothing. Ray Green studied the scene out the window, hiding a pleased smile. He knew what just happened, and he knew what only one other person in the room knew.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “Take me to Arlington,” Vice President Sutherland told his driver. They left the White House and he didn’t look back.

  When they arrived, he looked to see if the curtains were closed in Ms. DeMarco’s apartment. They were. It was a common signal, and it worked well. He went to the secure entrance phone and left her a message.

  He told his driver to take him to the Naval Observatory. He would deal with Curtis the following day. First, he needed to organize his allies. When he won the next battle and was sitting in the Oval Office, many things would change, including taking care of the thugs in the Southwest Coalition of States.

  The coalition leaders, waiting in vain for news to appear, decided to adjourn. Colonel Roberts escorted them to their apartments and set guards so none of them would be bothered.

  Back in the conference room, Ambassador Randall watched TV reporters try to outdo each other with absurd guesses about what was happening. Some predicted a military coup. Others said the president might resign. A few offered the absurd idea that England was declaring war on the SCS for blocking access for their airlines and cruise ships.

  Randall and Polk enjoyed themselves at the expense of the talking heads on TV. The most entertaining were the senior correspondents. They knew all the answers and thought people should hear them repeatedly. To mature, knowledgeable people, it was little more than background noise.

  “Maybe we should walk into the Rose Garden,” Ambassador Blakely told Ambassador Green. She wore her bright-blue Gucci business suit that was sure to attract attention, which was what she wanted.

  The news hounds, quickly seeing her and Green outside, moved their cameras to get telephoto pictures of the pair. She stood out against the bare white walls. The two ambassadors were deep in conversation, with security men following close behind. She stopped and faced the cameras, waving before walking on.

  The news analysts went wild, discussing everything from why she was outside with Green to how lovely she looked in her tailored business suit, even if the color seemed loud to some. One commentator questioned if she lost weight and any other inane point he could think of. Green kept walking. Catherine gestured with her hands.

  Only four people in the world knew what those gestures meant, and they made a strange alliance. Two of them were walking together, one was the ambassador of an unrecognized country. The last person was the adjutant general of Texas. They made a strange alliance and frequently shared information.

  General Polk and Ambassador Randal watched the news on TV. Polk’s sudden, “Whoop,” startled Colonel Roberts. He ran into the room, ready for action, but Polk and Randall told him to relax.

  �
�We’ll let you know when to notify the governors to come back to the conference room,” General Polk said. “They should have a good meal and a night’s rest, because it will be an unusually long day tomorrow. They can watch TV in their apartments and keep abreast of events.”

  Roberts, mystified, nodded and left to check the guards for the evening. In Washington, few knew what was transpiring. Vice President Sutherland entered the driveway at his house. He rode up to the side door and trotted up the steps before his facility manager could make him stop and listen for a moment. He went inside, not wanting to bother with such a tedious man. He was through with business for the day, and it was time to plan for the evening. His wife was scheduled to speak at an arts show that night, so he was free to go about his personal business.

  It was unusually quiet in the house. Until he came to the living room, he didn’t understand why. On any other day, his wife usually played music and had at least one TV on.

  She sat on the chair by the door with a briefcase and suitcase beside her. She looked at him, then looked away and handed him some photos while she stared out the door.

  As he took the pictures, his only thought was to wonder how many copies had been made. He also wondered how Curtis managed it. The man was a political nothing, incapable of tying his own shoes. Sutherland realized he’d been wrong.

  His next move was to appeal to his wife, who refused to listen. “Save it for your little Latina piece,” she snapped. “She’ll make a much better second lady.”

  How much did she know? Sutherland was a politician who thought of nothing else. In a moment like that, leverage and damage control were his forte. Surely they would work with her. He needed them to work. While Curtis could only inconvenience him, his wife could ruin him.

  When he tried to protest, she raised her hand as a taxi came to the door. She left without looking back, wanting to get home before she became the laughingstock of the capitol.

  Sutherland watched the taxi leave. Deep inside his corrupt heart, he didn’t believe that even that situation could harm his career. After all, one president in the recent past had affairs in the Oval Office.

  It was a day of many mistakes for Sutherland. He decided to call Ms. DeMarco at her condo to tell her what happened, but she didn’t answer. The listeners in Holloman Air Force Base monitoring Sutherland’s cell phone activity immediately told someone at the Arizona governor’s mansion.

  Sutherland’s second mistake came when he called Ms.DeMarco’s private cell phone, and she answered.

  “I’ve been exposed,” she said. “I must leave the country. It’s best for you to lay low. It’s probably in my best interests not to be seen with you anymore.”

  He pleaded with her, saying they could work out something.

  She hung up.

  The listeners in Arizona sent another message to the Arizona governor’s mansion. They were tracking Sutherland very easily.

  Sutherland, becoming irrational, ordered his car and left for the White House. He was admitted to the building, but he didn’t go to the Oval Office.

  He spent ten minutes in his office. When he came out, he handed an envelope to the Secret Service agent outside the president’s door. He also left one at the secretary of state’s office.

  He returned to his car and drove back to his resident at the Naval Observatory. Members of the press watched his movements avidly.

  A little after ten o’clock that evening, a news flash came on the TV. There had been an explosion at the Naval Observatory. The vice president’s residence was engulfed in flames. The staff suffered only minor injuries, but the vice president was unaccounted for.

  When the fire died down, the fire brigade searched for him, led by a young lieutenant junior grade and a petty officer. Both were experienced fire fighters and knew what to look for.

  They found Vice President Ronald Winslow Sutherland, age forty-seven, in the basement with a noose around his neck tied to a gas pipe. The Navy firemen deduced he committed suicide, and

  the pipe broke, releasing gas until it reached the second floor, where it ignited from the pilot light on the range, setting off a massive explosion.

  Among the first responders on the scene were Ambassador Ray Green and the chief of the Secret Service. They met the commander of the Naval Station, who swore the firemen to secrecy. They agreed the vice president died in the explosion. Since his body was too burned to be certain of the cause of death, that became the official ruling.

  Ray Green returned to the White House. When he arrived, he found a letter in the secretary of state’s basket. He took it to the Oval Office and found a duplicate letter there. Both went into the fireplace.

  He went to the vice president’s office and reformatted the hard drive on his computer. There was no need to further embarrass Mrs. Sutherland. Not everything was for public consumption.

  An article appeared in the Washington Post the day after the incident.

  “The nation mourns the loss of Vice President Ronald W. Sutherland. He barely started his tenure as vice President of the United States when a tragic malfunction occurred at his resident at the Naval Observatory. He died in the flaming house.

  “His wife, Laura Sutherland, was on her way to visit her family when the accident occurred. She will return to Washington accompanied by Mr. Sutherland’s family. Arrangements have been made to inter the vice president in his family plot in New Haven, Indiana.

  “The accident-investigation board of the US Navy found a weak gas pipe in the basement of the mansion broke and released gas throughout the house, resulting in a flash explosion and fire.

  “First responders to the scene found the house already engulfed in flames, and they were unable to assist Mr. Sutherland in the upper rooms. All staff is accounted for. The three ladies working in the house were evacuated to Bethesda Naval Hospital for burn treatment.

  “President Curtis declared a national day of mourning for the vice president. He stated it will be on Wednesday and added his hope that people observe it not as a holiday but as a true day of mourning.”

  A first-class passenger aboard FLT 351 of Jamaica Airlines read the article with limited interest. His last job with MI-5 went well. The contact seemed too cooperative, as if he wanted it to happen.

  He put such thoughts from his mind and looked forward to two weeks in the sun and surf. After that, he had an appointment in Cape Town.

  One month later, the Navy Times newspaper published the following article.

  “Lieutenant Junior Grade William Bettencourt has been selected by the military liaison to the White House as an executive aide to manage the security of the physical plant. Lieutenant Bettencourt was a fire chief prior to his current assignment. He will be promoted to full lieutenant.

  “Other Promotions: Damage Controlman First Class Giordano (Gordy) Conti has been selected to attend the Navy Instructor academy and will be assigned to San Diego to instruct in damage control on ships. He has received a below-the- zone promotion to DC/Chief.”

  A news conference was called at a classified location in Oklahoma. Governor Raven said it was time for the governors to decide which states should be allowed to join them.

  “The nation’s attention will be on DC for a few days, so we can get on with business. It’s too bad about Sutherland, but we must remember that business is business,” Raven said.

  The other governors agreed. They selected Governor Wilson to send a message of condolence to Mrs. Sutherland and offer any help the Coalition could give her. Kyle Harris, chairman of the

  coalition, thought it would be a good idea if Governor Matt Wilson made a televised speech and expressed their condolences for the loss of a promising young man.

  That caused a few raised eyebrows, but no one spoke. The motion was approved. Wilson immediately wondered what tie he should wear and if a blue shirt would be appropriate to highlight his sky-blue eyes.

  The meeting finally adjourned. The governors said farewell to each other. Governor Espada stayed
on to talk to Ambassador Randall and General Polk. When the others were gone, Governor Espada invited the two men to her apartment.

  When they arrived, she invited them to sit, then asked bluntly, “OK, Boys, neither of you seemed too excited by the revelations of Sutherland shenanigans, nor did you seem to mourn his passing. As you know, Mr. Randall, we have a saying in New Mexico. ‘Never miss an opportunity to shut up.’ You guys did very well on that today.”

  “Madame Governor,” Ambassador Randall said, “I honestly don’t understand what you’re talking about. You seem to think something unethical happened.”

  “Unethical, in politics?” she replied. “Wherever would you get such an idea? When the announcement of the affair with that Iranian-Columbian woman was presented, everyone else was a bit shocked. We knew Sutherland was off the leash as far as his marriage vows went, but still, it came as a revelation to us, but not to you two. What is it you seem to know that no one else does?”

  “Madame, we seem to be using sayings today,” General Polk said. “In Texas, they say that letting the cat out of the bag is a whole lot easier than putting it back in. I have a story to tell. Is the cat out of the bag or not?

  “You’ll have to decide who to tell this story to. A couple years ago, when the Coalition was first being discussed, I had a visit from the new Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, General Raymond Green. He heard rumblings about what was going on down here.”

  He told her the story as he knew it, which involved secession, drugs, marital infidelity, nervous breakdowns, and foreign intrigue the makings of a tawdry paperback novel.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN