The Bear

Day Ten The White House

“Just go in there and sit down, Lieutenant.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“You’re a tall one, Lieutenant. Just how big are you?”

“I’m six-foot seven, ma’am.”

The assistant nodded and motioned him into the room. Kyle Anthony smiled as she winked at him and turned away. He was used to it. His freakish height often drew stares in the army. He stood out in a crowd, literally head and shoulders above everyone in the room, no matter what room he was in. The joke was they would send him over the hill first so he could see what was going on.

‘I’m in the White House. The freakin’ White House’, he thought to himself. “What the hell am I doing here?” he said aloud.

“You’re to be part of a very special mission, Lieutenant.”

Kyle spun at the unexpected voice behind him. He stood tall, coming to attention though not offering a salute.

“Lieutenant Kyle Anthony reporting sir.”

“At ease, Lieutenant.” Martin Powell waved toward the settee. “Sit, Lieutenant. Sit.”

“Yes sir.” Lieutenant Anthony tucked his hat firmly beneath his arm and seated himself. He ran his hand over the fabric. It was as plush as anything he had ever felt.

“Lieutenant, do you know who I am?”

“I think so sir.”

“Good, then you know, or I hope you know, I’m not a bull-shitter.”

“I wouldn’t think so, Mr. Powell.” Kyle laid his cap on his lap and folded his hands. “Sir, what’s going on?”

Martin began to pace, rubbing his temples as he walked. He made his way over to the window and looked out across the lawn. The white blanket still held the city tightly within its grasp. The president’s chief of staff turned, placing his hands behind his back.

“Lieutenant, I ask that you make yourself comfortable for an hour or so. I can get you something from the kitchen if you like.”

“No thank you, sir. I ate just before my drive up here.”

“You’re the one from Bragg?”

“Yes sir. I just arrived in the city.” The one from Bragg. ‘That meant there were going to be others,’ he thought

“Son, I won’t say anything for now. I’ll need to wait. There are others who will be here.”

“When will they be arriving?” Kyle Anthony stood immediately and snapped off the perfect salute. “At ease, Lieutenant.”

“Yes sir.”

“General, I’m not sure exactly, but I know it will be soon. One is coming from Alaska and …”

“I know,” Scott replied. “From San Diego.” He motioned to the lieutenant to take his seat again. “They are both inside the beltway. They should be arriving within the hour.”

“And the other two?”

“Already here. I’m having them shuttled over from the Pentagon.

Lt. Anthony fidgeted for the next hour. He wasn’t used to being in such company. He suffered through other officers, but being forced to sit around a Lt. General, not to mention the president’s chief of staff, was more than a little uncomfortable. He took a huge breath and sighed as two other officers, both army, walked in. He was relieved.

“Major Francis Brown.” The major stepped forward and saluted General Scott. Kyle stood in front of the couch behind the general, ramrod straight, saluting the major when he turned.

“Captain Ruth Garrison.”

“Before we get down to business,” Martin began, “could ya’ll military types do me a favor and forget all the salutin’? It gives me a headache.”

“Consider it done,” Scott replied. “It’s the order of the day.”

Just as they sat down, the final two members of the team were escorted into the room where the round of salutes and introductions began again. It was all Martin could do, not to roll his eyes. He wasn’t a military man. Far from it. It was as foreign to him as was grits to a Yankee. He just didn’t get it. It wasn’t his world. But he understood the loyalty; he understood the command. Just as they again readied to sit, they rose in unison as President Edwin Kiger walked into the room. The junior officers were nearly in shock.

“Please forgo all the formalities, gentlemen. Sorry. Ladies as well.”

A chorus of ‘yes Mr. President’ followed. POTUS waved them all down into their seats. It was a casual affair as the furniture felt like they were sitting in someone’s family room, albeit a luxurious family room. The six officers were grouped three to a couch directly across from each other. Martin sat in an over-stuffed arm chair at the end between them. POTUS walked to the wall and pulled a white, shaker chair to the end opposite Martin. He leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. They now formed a rough circle and all eyes were on their Commander-In-Chief.

“I know this is a little strange,” POTUS began, “but I wanted to do this myself.” POTUS looked up and measured their initial reactions. There were none forthcoming. “You five have a certain skill-set that lends you to a specific task. Although what you are about to hear is important, I want you all to know, this is a voluntary mission.” POTUS straightened, sitting up and resting his hands on his knees. He paused before continuing. “However, if any of you feel you can not in good conscience operate within the parameters of the mission framework, I will be forced to scrub this mission. You five are all we have. There are no other personnel available in the time frame we have to accomplish this mission.” POTUS extended his hand toward his chief of staff. “Martin.”

For the next forty-five minutes, Martin Powell laid out the circumstances and the mission parameters. His audience sat in near-stunned silence. When he was finished, he returned to his seat, sat down and folded his arms across his chest. President Kiger took the floor for the final time.

“That’s it. Because of the short time frame, some of the details will need to work themselves out as you go. We’ll have to hope in timing and a little bit of luck.” POTUS paused, letting his words sink in. “Anyone who feels they can’t fulfill the duties of this mission needs to speak up now. Your military records will show nothing of this mission should you succeed or not.”

“We’re in, sir.”

“You can’t speak for everyone, Major,” General Scott said.

“He speaks for me,” Commander Lewis replied.

“And me.”

“And me.”

Lieutenant Anthony was the last to speak, partly in fact that he was the most junior officer of the bunch. He sank back, into the soft couch, his eyes downcast.

“Sir, I don’t have the experience of these officers,” he said as he raised his head, “but I will not be the weak link in this chain. I’m in.”

President Kiger sighed with a half-smile. He knew he had just committed to something from which he could not turn away. Come hell or high water, the die was cast.