men a cup of coffee and left the room.
The President dabbed the corner of his mouth with a napkin and said, “Erik, I would like you to know that I’m happy you’ve made the effort to come see me, especially in light of the current situation and the poor working relationship between our two parties.”
Olson nodded his head, signaling a frustrated understanding. “I’m glad you’ve agreed to see me, sir. I know these are hectic times for you.”
“They’re hectic for all of us.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” Olson sighed. “That is why I’m here this morning. The situation we are confronted with is bigger than partisan politics.” Olson stopped as though e were searching for the right Words to use. “I am very concerned about what might happen if certain members of my party propose that we implement some of the things this group is asking for.” The President raised an eyebrow at the comment.
“Considering the philosophical tenets of your party, and the stress that we are all
Under, I can see where that might become a possibility, one that I would not welcome.”
“Neither would I, sir.”
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Olson glanced down at his oatmeal and then at the President. The President nodded, implying to Olson that he should continue. “Last Friday we started a new chapter in our country’s history, one that is potentially very dangerous. The idea that one small group can dictate, through violence, the policies of this country runs completely against all of the democratic principles upon which our nation was founded.
These acts of terrorism absolutely and emphatically cannot be tolerated if we want to leave a civilized and democratic nation for future generations of Americans.” The Senator paused for a second, then continued, “As you said earlier, the relations between our parties have been very strained as of late. Much of that has to do with the recent fight over your budget. It is my feeling that we must put those differences aside and move forward with a unified front. There will be some compromises that will have to be reached, but the important thing is that we cannot, for a minute, entertain the idea of appeasing these terrorists.” President Stevens leaned back in his chair. “I agree.
Appeasement is out of the question. That has been my official position from the outset. It does, however, worry me that you think certain members of your party may be willing to exploit this situation for personal and political gain. What do you propose our course of action to be?”
“I think we need to bring the leaders of both parties together and discuss what needs to be changed in your budget to guarantee a swift and resounding passage through both the House and the Senate.” Olson placed both elbows on the table and waited for the response. “Erik, I had enough votes to get my budget passed before this whole debacle started.
I’m not so sure I need to change it at all.” Olson looked straight into the President’s eyes. “Sir, if your budget was put to a vote today, it wouldn’t stand a chance of getting out of the House.
Koslowski and Basset are gone, and these assassinations have scared the hell out of the remaining Congressman. I’ve heard rumors that a few of them are contemplating quitting.” Olson paused to let his comments sink in. “The only thing that will get your budget passed is a strong, unified front from both parties, and that means some deals will have to be struck. I’m not saying that drastic changes need to be made, only that you will have to meet us halfway.” The President nodded his head positively. The proposal was beginning to make more sense. The two statesmen continued to discuss the formation of their new alliance, while several floors beneath the meeting the wheels were spinning in
Garret’s head. This might be the perfect way out, he thought to himself. Show a unified front with the President standing in the middle, holding both parties together. The public would eat it up.
Stevens would look stronger than ever. His approval rating would go through the roof, and no one from either party would be able to challenge him for a second term. And
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that meant Garret could have any position-secretary of state, secretary of defense, whatever he wanted.
McMahon entered Director Roach’s office ten minutes late for their seven-thirty meeting. “Sorry, Brian, I got tied up trying to untangle a dispute, a dispute that I don’t have the time, energy, or political clout to deal with.” Roach was sitting at the conference table in his office. He had stacks of files laid out in an orderly manner in front of him. He preferred the large work surface of the conference table to his desk. McMahon plopped down in a chair at Roach’s end of the table.
Roach had a feeling that whatever was bothering McMahon was about to be dumped in his lap. “What’s the problem, Skip?”
“The problem is that no one from the President to Nance to the secretary of defense to the chairman of the Joint Chiefs, no one, and I mean no one, is cooperating in letting us take a look at the Special Forces personnel files.”
“Why?”
“In short, Brian … they’re in the business of trusting no one.”
McMahon shook his head several times. “I suppose they think we’re going to walk in the front door of the Pentagon with a hundred agents and start rifling through their top—
secret files. Whatever their reasons are, I don’t care. I need to start looking at those files, whether the brass is paranoid or not. I’ll work in conjunction with them, and try to step on as few toes as possible, but we have to be given access.” Roach nodded. I’ll look into it this morning and hopefully have an answer to you by this afternoon.
What else do you have for me?” McMahon handed his boss two files.
“These are the ballistics and autopsy reports for Basset. I received them late last night.”
“Anything unexpected?”
“One interesting point. The guys down in the lab are pretty sure the bullet was loaded with nitroglycerin.” The
