Memorial Day

Forty-Eight

Peggy Stealey was more than aware that this was her first time in the Oval Office, and she wished her appearance matched the occasion. She found her hair, makeup, and choice of clothes severely wanting. As always, Attorney General Stokes was dressed impeccably in one of his three-button Hugo Boss suits. Stealey was sure one of his people had gone over to his house where Martin's perfect little wife had everything packed in the attorney general's Orvis garment bag.

Stealey didn't have people, not yet anyway, so she was still stuck in the boring gray Talbots pantsuit that she'd thrown on in the middle of the night. The outfit was to women's clothing what vanilla was to ice cream. There was absolutely nothing exciting or memorable about it, and if that wasn't bad enough she didn't even have anything to dress it up with. No necklace, no earrings, not even a bracelet, a watch, or be-jeweled hair clip. She was stuck with a plain elastic band to hold her signature blond hair back and a nondescript pair of black Jill St. John flats on her feet.

Stealey had been in the White House dozens of times to meet with other senior administration officials, and had even sat in the back row of a few cabinet meetings. But on those occasions she was just one face among dozens. This morning was different in so many ways. This was history in the making, and Stealey was planning on helping shape it. Stokes had told her about his rebuke of the vice president and the approving look he'd received from the president. The opportunity was there. All they had to do was take it, and Stealey had a plan that would suit everyone's needs.

President Hayes entered the Oval Office with a spring in his step. Jones and Kennedy followed a few steps behind. Stealey felt a little better upon noticing that the president was in a pair of khaki pants and a white button-down shirt. That brief reprieve vanished a second later as a diminutive man in a starched white jacket whisked into the room from the opposite direction. He was holding a dark blue suit, pressed shirt, tie, and a pair of shiny dress shoes.

The president ignored his two guests and said, "Carl, you're the best."

With a beaming smile the president's Navy steward, who had stood his post for twenty-two years, said, "It's nice to have you back at the White House, sir."

Hayes had no doubt that Carl knew more about what had transpired over the last twelve hours than all but his top advisors. "Thank you, Carl. Would you please hang that stuff in my bathroom and bring us some coffee?"

"Absolutely, sir."

Hayes turned to face Stokes and Stealey, who were standing by the fireplace. He glanced at Stealey, and she noticed the brief questioning look as he tried to place her. The look was very subtle. He tried to mask it with a smile, and then his eyes moved quickly to Stokes. Stealey guessed miserably that given her appearance, it was likely that the president thought her a member of the attorney general's security detail and not one of his top lawyers.

The president clapped his hands together and said, "Martin, you and your people did a phenomenal job this morning."

"Thank you, Mr. President. It was a great team effort."

"It sure was."

"Mr. President," called out Kennedy as she walked behind the president's desk, "would you mind if I used your phone to contact General Flood?"

"Of course not."

There was a knock on the door and this time a woman entered carrying a garment bag. "Excuse me, Mr. President." The young woman immediately turned her attention to the president's chief of staff who was in the corner talking on her cell phone. "Val, I've got your stuff."

Jones covered the phone. "Put it in my office."

Stealey made a mental note to pack that "go bag" the first chance she got. Never again would she be caught so utterly unprepared.

"Mr. President," said Stokes, "I'd like to introduce you to my deputy assistant attorney general in charge of counterterrorism, Peggy Stealey."

Hayes smiled as he walked across the office, his right hand extended. "I think we've met before, haven't we?"

"More or less...yes, sir."

"Peggy," said Stokes, "was a big part of what went down this morning. She was the one bringing everything together on the domestic front."

"Well then you have my gratitude and my thanks." The president clasped her hand with both of his.

Her boss had just exaggerated quite a bit, but Stealey wasn't about to argue with him. If they wanted to give her credit, who was she to argue? "Thank you, sir."

Kennedy hung up with General Flood and joined the group. "Hello, Peggy."

"Good morning, Doctor Kennedy." Stealey was surprised that Kennedy had remembered her name. They had met only twice before, and both times in a large group.

"General Flood says SEAL Team Six found a sizable amount of molded C-4 plastique explosives. Based on the initial estimate they are guessing that the explosive charge was designed to be placed around the bomb's physics package we found in Charleston."

"An implosion device."

"Exactly."

"What about the other two ships?" asked the president.

"The search is underway, but nothing so far."

"We're not thinking a second bomb at this point, are we?" asked Hayes.

"It's too early to rule that out completely, but based on the pattern we're seeing my guess is we're going to find other key components used to assemble a full-up nuclear weapon."

"How far are the other two ships from the coast?"

"Over sixty miles. The Coast Guard is handling the situation with the Navy providing backup."

"When can we expect an answer?"

"Within the hour. The initial sweep on each vessel came up negative for nuclear material. Now they're moving cargo around to get at the specific containers."

"Let me know as soon as we find anything out."

"I will." Kennedy checked her watch. "If it's all right with you, sir, I'd like to go down to the Situation Room, and get caught up on the complete picture."

"By all means. I'll join you in a little bit."

Kennedy left, and Jones came over to the group, a look of exasperation on her face. "The press...I swear there are times when I think the Communists had the right idea."

Everyone laughed.

"What's the problem now?" asked Hayes.

"Nothing. At least nothing I need to concern you with at the moment."

"You sure?"

Jones hesitated. "I've called a strategy meeting in thirty minutes. It can wait until then. The simple fact that you're physically here at the White House has taken the wind out of their sails for the moment." The chief of staff ran a hand through her tousled hair.

"Val," said Stokes, "I'd like you to meet Peggy Stealey, my deputy assistant attorney general in charge of counterterrorism."

Stealey shook Jones's hand and noted the dark circles under the chief of staff's eyes. Suddenly, she didn't feel so bad about her appearance.

"Peggy Stealey," Jones repeated the name as if she'd heard it before. There was a spark of recognition in her eyes and she said, "Pat Holmes."

"Yes." Stealey smiled. "Pat says you're the sharpest person in town."

Jones nodded in agreement and gave the president a little backhanded pat to the stomach. "Did you hear that?"

"You don't hear me arguing, do you?" Hayes threw up his hands.

"You'd better not." She turned her attention back to Stealey. "You and I need to talk. Pat told me about your dinner the other night, and I couldn't agree more."

Hayes ebbed and flowed on the issue of wanting to know what his political handlers were up to. Often, their preparation and strategizing were nothing more than background noise, but there were times when their thirst for victory turned to outright foolish scheming.

As he looked back and forth at Jones and this striking Stealey woman, Hayes decided he wanted to know what the chairman of the Democratic National Committee and these two women were up to. "What are you plotting behind my back now?"

Stealey was a perfectionist who fretted about details only up to a point. It was all part of her constant quest for victory. The details mattered in preparation, but once the trial or debate started she focused on the big picture and took charge.

Stealey didn't wait for Jones to field the question. "There's a consensus over at Justice, sir, that the Patriot Act is too big a reach. We've got some landmark cases working their way through the system toward the Supreme Court. The way the calendar looks right now those decisions will be handed down late summer through early fall."

"In the final months of your reelection campaign," Jones added.

"The consensus, sir," Stealey said, "is that the court is going to embarrass us. And not just once. We're looking at a series of stunning defeats."

The president thought that after what had almost happened this morning, the Patriot Act should, if anything, be strengthened. "Your timing on this isn't so hot." Hayes fired his rebuke with a stern frown on his face. "I don't know if either of you noticed, but a group of terrorists just came awfully close to sneaking a nuclear weapon into our country."

Stealey stood tall, fixed Hayes with a look, and said, "Mr. President, I respectfully disagree. The timing couldn't be better to address this issue."

Attorney General Stokes took a half step back and watched his old lover go to work. Stokes noted that she was hiding her tendency to condescend. Her words were firm but respectful. Pleading, but not desperate. She piled up fact after fact and in the end brought in the political angle in a very deft manner. Stokes had seen her do it before, and he knew the president well enough to understand that he stood no chance. Stokes and Jones exchanged a quick look, and the president's chief of staff raised an impressed eyebrow. Stokes allowed himself to think about the Democratic National Convention this summer. He pictured himself making one of the key primetime speeches, and then he pictured the president announcing to the fevered crowd his new running mate. It was all there for him to grab.