director’s eyes opened wider.
“Really?”
“Yep, it’s a pretty sure way to make sure one shot does the job, I suppose.”
“How does a person go about getting their hands on a nitro-tipped bullet?”
“We’re looking into talking to the people over at ATF, and they’re trying to put together a list of people who dabble in stuff like this.
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They’re obviously illegal in the U.S but some of the guys in the lab seem to think there might be some small manufacturers abroad who do work like this.” Roach closed the ballistics report and placed it on top of a pile of files for later reading. “Interesting;
you may want to bring the CIA in on this. They’ve got a much better handle on the international side of this stuff than the ATF does.”
“I’ve already set the wheels in motion, which brings me to my next question.
McMahon paused while he shifted in his chair. “I would like to borrow Irene Kennedy from the CIA for a while.”
“You mean Stansfield’s expert on terrorism.”
“Exactly.”
Roach wrote himself a note. “I’ll call Stansfield as soon as we’re done.
I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”
“Good.” It was almost noon when Garret left the Oval Office to retrieve something from his office. The morning had been productive, and with the help of Olson, the coalition was coming together faster than expected.
All politicians, regardless of party affiliation, were scared, and the idea of strength in numbers was appealing. Garret entered his office and started sucking on a cigarette.
Several minutes and another cigarette later, Mike Nance entered and closed the door behind him. Nance saw the smile on Garret’s face and asked, “What are you so excited about?”
“I’ll tell you in a minute. What did you want to see me about?”
“I received a phone call last night from a friend … a friend who says he would like to sit down with us and discuss our options.”
“Who would that friend be?”
“Arthur,” responded Nance in a lowered tone. Garret thought about it for a minute.
“Did he say what it was about?”
“He doesn’t usually like to talk about things over the phone. He only said that he would like us to meet him at his estate tonight for dinner.” Garret shook his head. He wanted to meet Arthur, but tonight was out of the question. “Can’t do it, and neither can you. The President is going to read a prepared statement along with Senator Olson and several of both parties’ bigwigs tonight at eight.”
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Garret stopped to see if the news would elicit any emotion from his calm friend. To
Garret’s slight frustration, Nance’s expression didn’t change. “The President is going to announce that he’s holding a closed-door summit at Camp David this weekend. He’s inviting the leadership from both parties. Senator Olson offered the olive branch this morning and we jumped all over it. They’re going to back the President in a show of unity against these terrorists and work together to pass his budget through the House and
Senate.”
“What are they asking for in return?”
“They’re going to ask for a few changes in the budget, but the bottom line is we’re going to come out of this deal looking like the great unifiers. Stevens’s approval rating will go through the roof.”
“That’s assuming you can keep all of these egos satisfied.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, it’s not going to be easy, but considering where we were twenty-four hours ago, this is a godsend.” Garret looked hard at Nance.
“Don’t ruin this for me yet, I need the energy to get through the day.
It’s going to be a long one.” Nance cracked a thin smile. “What would you like me to tell our friend?” Garret thought about the response.
“Tell him we’ll try to set it up for Saturday night. There’s a remote chance we might be able to sneak away from Camp David, but we can’t count on it.” Ann Moncur had announced to the press, just after 1 P.M that the President would be addressing the nation along with the majority and minority leaders of the House and the Senate at 8 P.M.
Instead of holding the meeting in the drab White House pressroom, Hopkinson had convinced Garret and the President to hold it in the ornate and stately East Room. They would stand where the coffins had been just one day earlier.
Hopkinson had told them the symbolism would not be missed by the press, especially after he spoon-fed it to several reporters who owed him favors. The President would be compared to the Phoenix, the legendary bird that rose out of the fiery ashes, stronger and more pure. The parallel would be drawn that the President, despite the trials and tribulations suffered over the past week, was rebounding as a stronger and better leader.
Hopkinson snickered to himself as he felt the rush and excitement that he got from manipulating public opinion.
