peace and quiet if you don't mind, Barney. Just for another hour or two.'
Barney nodded. 'You take your time. We'll be just fine.'
Denise folded her arms and stuck out her lower lip as her mother left the apartment.
Barney threw his arm around the girl and told her, 'You just ease up there. Your mom's been through something, doesn't take x-ray vision to see that. There's something she's got to work out on her own.'
– President Evan Godfrey walked along the marble pillars of the Cross Hall with Ray Roos at his side and a small binder under his arm. He could feel the electricity in the air, much like those first press conferences when he arrived at the White House last month. Certainly the media would pepper him with questions about the lack of a Constitutional Convention, the extent of Presidential powers, and his removal of nearly a dozen administrators and political leaders appointed by the old Emperor.
Yet today Evan would be on the offensive. Today he would stand surrounded by military VIPs whose loyalty would be on display for all to see, unlike the treacherous Jon Brewer and his clan of conspirators.
Such a display would further isolate those who opposed democracy and would make the coming clash with the Excalibur much more palatable to the public. Finally, after months of planted stories, phony confessions, and 'unidentified sources', Evan Godfrey's story of a military/intelligence conspiracy would near its happy ending, leaving Internal Security in a stronger position and further accelerating the placement of friendly operatives into the armed forces hierarchy.
All for the greater good, of course, Evan thought. When the ends are so noble, certainly the means can be justified.
'Um, did you hear me, boss?'
'No,' the President admitted.
Roos repeated, 'General Cassy Simms has arrived with her officers, as well as General Rhodes who took over 2 ^ nd Mech when Stonewall went down.' Godfrey waved his hand, 'Right, right.' 'Well I kinda figured that wouldn't get you all up and rowdy, but both of them are from Shepherd's First Corp.' That grabbed the President's attention. 'And…and you think they're loyal to us?'
'Nope, not really. If I was only to bring in folks who marched to our drum then we wouldn't have any big faces for those cameras. But don't worry, Simms and Rhodes have been out west for months. They don't have much of a clue about anything that's been going on around here as of late. They'll be happy enough to smile for pictures and shake your hand when the time comes. But the point is Simms and Rhodes were both heroes at Five Armies and such. Besides, Simms never really liked the whole Winnabow thing, either. You got that in common.'
'Wait a moment,' Godfrey remembered. 'Simms was with McAllister in the early days.'
'Don't you just have the greatest memory? Yes you do. And along those lines I've also got Captain Benny Duda on the dance card. I hear he's had a lot of questions about how our dearly departed fearless Emperor handled the whole California thing. Doesn't make him one of ours, 'course, but he's not exactly singing campfire songs about Trevor Stone these days, either. I tried to get Dustin McBride, too, but it seems his unit has gone missing as of late.'
'And Simms is an African-American military officer, standing by my side. That has to be good. Where are my guests?'
Roos scratched his chin. 'Well, they're all out with Tucker by the northeast gate, kinda coagulating there like an impromptu family reunion. He'll be movin' them along real soon.' 'And Dante? Where's my Secretary of Defense?' Roos pointed a finger up, meaning the roof. 'In his usual crow's nest. That fella has got himself some real issues. You sure you even want him at this?'
'Fine. Let him enjoy his air. But I want him down here in…' Godfrey consulted his watch… 'in fifteen minutes. That's when this thing takes off. I want the VIPs here by then, too.'
'And where you goin' to be in the meantime?'
Evan answered, 'I'm going out to mingle with the press.'
'I thought this thing didn't start for fifteen minutes?'
Godfrey laughed, 'Oh Ray, you just don't know how to play the game, do you? Rumor has been that the President has been locked up in a bunker here at the White House for the last few weeks. Nothing to clear that air like some friendly, off the record chit-chats.'
Evan left Roos behind to tend to the security arrangements and exited the building for the southwest grounds. There three rows of chairs sat gazing at a Presidential podium standing in front of the saplings he had planted upon his move to the White House. Several reporters waited among those rows of folding chairs along with two cameras and a technician wrestling with sound equipment.
Evan felt that electricity intensify. He saw the podium as his piano, the press as his audience, and today a grand concert playing out under perfect July weather: sunny, but not too hot. It seemed as if even the heavens blessed the day.
The President strode casually across the well-manicured lawn with a friendly smile and settled into the character of an approachable populist. As important the press conferences and news releases, Evan found that reporters responded well-and in a favorable manner-when you connected with them on a personal level.
'Angela, I hear you just had a birthday? You must be thirty-five now, is that right?'
Evan knew darned well that the broadcast reporter had passed forty a few years ago. And while she usually responded well to flattery, today her mood appeared less friendly.
'Yes, Mr. President. Tell me sir, what is the status of General Shepherd? Why hasn't he been charged yet? And I hear he has not been granted access to counsel. Is this true?'
Evan's smiled wavered. 'Angela, why don't we save those questions for the conference. I thought I'd take this time to-'
'Mr. President,' called a skinny black reporter from the Atlanta Times. 'Senator Trimble is attempting to establish a Constitution Committee without your input, citing your lack of action as justification. Do you care to comment?'
The smile faltered further. 'Doug, I was hoping to have a more informal discussion before the conference began. The representatives of the military are only just arriving. Tell me, are things as hot back home in Atlanta as they have been here in D.C.?'
Evan heard how forced his reply sounded even before it left his lips. He realized he had misjudged the situation. Evan decided to retreat but he could not leave. If he did, he would cede control of the upcoming press conference to the reporters as if throwing red meat to a pack of sharks.
'Mr. President, there are reports that General Brewer has taken a dreadnought beyond the treaty borders. Do you know why and has this action been undertaken with your blessing?'
Evan grew quite warm inside the dark suit he wore.
'Mr. President, do you have plans to introduce a time schedule for the formation of a Constitutional Convention?'
President Godfrey waved his hand in a calming manner toward the growing crowd of media and assured, 'I'll get to that in a bit. Just give me a few moments to get set here.'
He turned his attention to his binder, buying time under the guise of reviewing notes…
…Nina's keys jingled as she slipped one into the lock. The motion pushed open the busted door; no key required.
She moved inside with one hand instinctively resting on the butt of her rifle but quickly relaxed as she saw no further sign of intrusion. Satisfied no threat loomed, she closed the broken door as well as she could and stepped forward.
Her boot kicked something.
Nina looked to the floor. She saw a square package wrapped in brown paper, secured lengthwise with plain white string.
She stooped, grabbed the package, and stood again so as to better examine it. The delivery address listed Nina Forest, but no information in regards to sender…
…Ashley entered the lake side mansion through the front door walking in rigid but slow strides, feeling the eyes of the world upon her even though only a cleaning crew and a handful of bored staff watched.
That had been her way, of course. Ever since they had pulled her from the green goo through which she had rode time, Ashley's life had been one of appearances, of duty, of responsibility.
As she returned home she tried to find sanctuary in that role. She focused every muscle of her being on
