quick, short, bouncy stride and the manner of a busy debt collector. His hair was longish and curly, and his suits usually needed pressing.
He was quick-witted, and no one was in any doubt he was the best writer in the building. A lot of people did not like him. But these were few compared with the long list of people Anthony himself disliked. This included almost everyone, for a vast variety of reasons. But the one at the very top was Admiral Arnold Morgan.
There had, apparently, been an occasion when Anthony had drafted a press release specifically to mollify the liberal branch of the media. It was not altogether necessary, and since the matter was military, the president checked it out with Admiral Morgan, who immediately ripped it up and threw it in the wastebasket.
A few months later, on the day of the Logan bomb, the admiral himself wrote out the main points for Paul Bedford’s forthcoming evening speech. And three people heard him growl, “Better get this polished up, but don’t for Christ’s sake give it to that fat fucker who hasn’t got the brains he was born with.”
Anthony Hyman had just enough enemies for that little episode to be relayed onto the White House grapevine, and in the end, of course, someone made certain he heard about it personally.
The tubby speechwriter seethed. And he planned to strike back, using his particular buddy in the media, the
They ordered a couple of beers, and the White House man began by explaining the close personal relationship between the two men, how their wives were friends, how Arnold never even knocked when he called at the Oval Office, a habit which had annoyed a succession of secretaries and aides.
He described how President Bedford never even sought another opinion when Admiral Morgan had made a decision. He described how the president took his cue on the phrasing of awkward matters, how he never even consulted his speechwriters when Admiral Morgan issued him with a first draft.
“I’m telling you, Henry,” he said. “This president’s got a lot of brain-power in his writing pool, and a lot of talented advice surrounding him, but there are times when he uses none of it. And it’s usually when that boorish old bastard from another age comes calling.”
“I hear what you’re saying, Anthony,” said the newspaperman. “But Admiral Morgan commands huge respect in the international intelligence community, and he has cracked some big issues on behalf of the United States, more than most people will ever know. And what you’re telling me is certainly excellent background material, but it’s not what you might call hot. ”
“I’m coming to that — I’m coming to that,” said Anthony. “Be patient. We’re not in a hurry, are we?”
“No, Anthony, of course not, but no one’s very interested in running a big anti-Arnold Morgan story without some heavyweight information. He’s one powerful dude. And he hates the media, anyway.”
“Okay, okay, keep listening, okay? Now let’s take the Boston airport bombing. I’m here to tell you, the admiral was in the Oval Office, right there with the president, through the whole day. And there were a lot of decisions made that day, especially about the captured terrorist, and how and where he would be interrogated.
“I know he refused to speak to anyone, and I also know it was Arnold Morgan who had him removed to the Naval Hospital in Bethesda — first step in getting him under strict military control, right?”
Henry Brady’s interest visibly heightened. “Well, I admit I did not know that.”
“Neither do you know where that terrorist is right now?”
“We assume still under guard in Bethesda.”
“Wrong, Henry. He’s in Guantanamo Bay, has been for nearly two weeks.”
“Seriously? Hell, that’s news.”
“And I’ll tell you something else. The New York cops picked up some other terrorist plot two days after Logan, and they arrested the mastermind behind the airport bomb. Right there in the city.”
“Yeah?”
“And you know what? Admiral Morgan had him removed instantly to Guantanamo Bay, alongside the other guy.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I talk to all the other people who should have had a part in that, and none of them did. The whole thing was Morgan and the president acting alone. They never even took the requisite legal advice.”
“You mean the whole fucking place is being run like some kind of military
“Precisely,” smiled Anthony, amused at the phrase. “And since then, the president has spoken to the nation twice, and on neither occasion did he even consult with his team of writers.
“And now, Henry, I want to get to the really interesting bit. You may not remember, but on that very same day, there was a civilian air crash, out in the Atlantic, fifty miles or so off Norfolk. Naturally, some of you guys asked formally if there was some kind of connection with the bomb. And you were told a categorical ‘no’ by the White House press office.
“In his speech, the president glossed over the coincidence, and muttered about having no information about the flight or the airline that owned it. Air Traffic Control confirmed that it was a Boeing 737 and it went down in deep water. And that was supposed to be the end of it.”
“Okay?”
“Well, Henry, as you know, the White House is a village, nothing more, nothing less. Gossip gets around real fast. And an awful lot of people who should know better think there was a lot more to it than that.
“What’s more, they think Admiral Morgan was in it, up to his elbows.”
“Jesus.”
“Henry, I’ve spoken to people who think January 15 was targeted to be another 9/11; that al Qaeda intended to blow up the busiest passenger terminal in the Boston airport, to commemorate American Airlines Flight 11 and United 175. The aircraft that hit the North and South Towers. Both of ’em, as I’m sure you remember, took off from Boston.
“On January 15, three or four hours after the disaster in Terminal C, those al Qaeda guys intended to slam another airliner into the Capitol building in Washington. That was Flight TBA 62, which mysteriously vanished into the Atlantic before it got there.”
“But no one knows why?” said Henry.
“No one has the slightest idea why. And no one’s gonna tell you anything. But I have spoken to a very senior man right here in Washington. And he thinks Admiral Arnold Morgan told the President of the United States to order U.S. fighters to battle stations, and to shoot the fucker down, laden with civilians.”
Henry Brady’s jaw dropped about three inches.
“And my source told me, Henry, the president went right ahead and did just that.”
“As secrets go, that one’s pretty good, eh?” The newspaperman took a long draft of his beer. “You could work on that for years, Anthony, and never get a hint of the truth,” he said. “Like you said, we don’t even know where it went down.”
“I accept that,” said Anthony Hyman. “But you could begin by finding out all about Thunder Bay Airways. They owned the aircraft, they know who was on board, and they might even know where it is. They just might have received a final destination from the pilot. But I’ll tell you one more thing. Thunder Bay Airways is Arab- owned.”
Thus it was, on Thursday morning, February 23, the
The headline read:
THE RETURN OF THE OLD LION OF THE WEST WING
Is Arnold Morgan actually running the country? Is the president now isolated with the fire-eating admiral?
The story ran and ran. It detailed the principal events in Admiral Morgan’s career, listed his triumphs, found
