One of President Noah Young’s aides met Blunt inside and ushered him to a meeting room. He picked up a news magazine lying face down on the end table. On the cover, Young was depicted at a political rally, a bold headline asking a question aimed at undecided voters: “Is Young’s America Safe?”
Blunt believed it was, but only because of the people Young employed. His main opponent Collin Radcliffe hammered Young on all the security breaches while campaigning. The Harvard lawyer even criticized the president for his inability to even secure the White House after the bombing that supposedly killed his wife. Blunt shrugged as he skimmed the article, viewing the complaints as fair. But casting stones would be easy for anyone not occupying the Oval Office. However, if the president hadn’t been so proactive and aggressive in so many other situations, Blunt had little doubt another September 11th event would’ve occurred during Young’s first term.
“What’s that you’re reading?” Young asked as he entered the room.
Blunt snapped the magazine shut and placed it face down on the table where he’d found it. “Oh, it’s nothing, just another agenda-driven piece by a journalist with an ax to grind."
“That doesn’t sound like you, J.D. You’re always so fair-minded about most things, even when people are critical of me. And you know, sometimes they’re right.”
“We should never ignore our critics, though we shouldn’t bow to them either.”
Young snatched up the magazine, and his eyebrows shot upward as he scanned the cover. After clucking his tongue, he deposited the issue in the trash.
“Who brought that garbage in here?” Young asked.
“Look, I know that’s tough to read, but they do bring up a point you shouldn’t ignore while you’re out stumping for an election. People are concerned, and you can’t really blame them.”
Young sighed and sat down across from Blunt. “And do you think America will be safer under Radcliffe’s direction?”
“Not if he invokes the policies he’s suggesting. If we think we’re playing whack-a-mole with the terrorists in the Middle East, just wait until he flings the gates open wide and invites them over.”
“Exactly,” Young said, pointing at Blunt in agreement. “That’s why we need to help everyone see that our country is still free and very safe with this Fourth of July extravaganza I want to hold.”
“Is that what you called me over here to discuss? To be quite honest with you, I’m not much of a party planner. But I do know a few good caterers.”
“Knock off the comedy act, J.D. I’m serious. I only want you to shoot me straight about whether this is a good idea or not.”
J.D. removed the cigar from his mouth and leaned forward in his seat. “It’s only a good idea if something bad doesn’t happen during the gala. But if it does, we might be talking about the end of your presidency well before November.”
“But if it doesn’t?”
“It might be the signature moment you need to convince the voters that they’re all still safe.”
“Ah-ha,” Young said, pointing at Blunt again. “That’s why you’re here, to make sure this event is memorable and carries me into the debates with a strong lead. The economy’s rolling, the job market is hot, and people are talking to their neighbors like we’re truly united again. And if they all party together around the idea that founded this country, I can’t see them having a reason to vote for that two-faced senator from Minnesota.”
“I agree,” Blunt said. “But if you’re looking for a guarantee from me today, I can’t give that to you. I can promise to work with Homeland Security and the FBI to do the best job possible. However, you can’t expect me or anyone else to assure you that nothing will happen.”
“Sure you can.”
“Then I’d be lying.”
“Oh, come on. It’s not that hard to secure an environment like the one we plan on having, is it?”
Blunt jammed the cigar back into his mouth and nodded. “It’s damn near impossible if someone’s motivated enough to wreak havoc on your party.”
“So, do you think this is a bad idea?”
Blunt winced as he sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Under normal circumstances, I’d say you’d be fine. Any terrorist out there trying to pull off an attack would probably just be bluster, a tactic to simply scare people. But the kind of information we received recently is more credible. Something is happening.”
Young leaned back in his chair, his cheeks puffed out as he exhaled. “Look, if we cancel now, Radcliffe is going to seize on this and make me look weak.”
“And if a terrorist strike happens during this event, how do you think that’ll make you look?”
“That’s why I’m counting on you to make sure it doesn’t happen.”
Blunt chewed hard on his stogie. “What was this meeting really about then if it wasn’t to solicit my opinion?”
“I want you to understand how important it is that this thing goes off without a hitch. Think you can handle that for me?”
“Like I said earlier, I can promise to do the best job possible, but I’m not God. And I might need to be to stop this thing.”
Young sighed. “Okay, let’s move forward but tenuously. If we get closer to the event and it looks like there’s no way we can stop this, I’ll be open to canceling everything.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Blunt said before slapping his knees and then standing.
Young stood and offered his hand. “I know you’ll do a great job, J.D.”
Blunt shook the president’s hand and exited the room, wondering if his hard-headed approach would seal his re-election or his fate.
* * *
YOUNG SAT BACK DOWN and scrolled through his messages. He’d just received a text from one of his aides, notifying him that his daughter, Olivia, had called. The president smiled, anticipating the conversation, a rising junior at the University of Virginia. She'd
