Transfer of Power

NO ONE IN the bunker had slept for more than a half hour at a time, and some of the agents had not slept at all. The noise of steel assaulting steel grew louder as morning approached.

President Hayes remained confident that the FBI would come. He’d been through the briefings, he had listened to the experts state that the best time to attack was right before dawn. It was when people were most sluggish and hence easiest to surprise.

It started to brighten, this time of the year, around five thirty and the sun was up by a quarter past six. Each of the eleven felt a fevered anticipation as morning drew near, but as the hours passed by, there was collective letdown, followed by depression, as the nerve-racking sound of the door being breached gnawed at their ears. Each individual, including the president, asked himself or herself the same question over and over again. Can we hold out for another day?

Valerie Jones was coming back from the small bathroom, where she had finally, after two days, decided to remove the makeup from her face.

Considering the situation, she felt that any hang-ups about her wrinkles and the dark circles under her eyes were foolish.

Jones had spent all night thinking about the president’s rebuke the day before. She had worked far too hard to get where she was, and she wouldn’t allow anyone to pin the blame on her for admitting a terrorist into the Oval Office. In Jones’s mind the truth was never that simple.

There were always eight sides to every story.

There was no way she was going to roll over now and watch her career go up in flames. Jones had been concentrating on angles all night. Who could influence Hayes to help put the story in the proper light? Whom could she use to focus Hayes’s anger on? The first question was easy to answer. Jones knew enough senators and big donators. She could get them to whisper in the president’s ear or, if needed, lean on him. The way she would spin it would be to hold up Russ Piper and the DNC as sacrificial lambs. All Jones did was put him and his guest down in the appointment book. That menial task was hardly worth ending someone’s career over.

As far as getting her boss to focus his anger on something or someone else, Jones was working on that. She proceeded back to the couches and sat next to him. If she could get him thinking in another direction, she just might hold on to her job and her career.

President Hayes didn’t bother to look up when his chief of staff sat.

Jones studied him for a second and then asked, “Why wouldn’t they have come?”

Hayes shook his head.

“I don’t know. They must have a good reason.”

“Like what? Isn’t it our policy not to negotiate with terrorists?”

Hayes glanced over at her.

“We don’t always stick to policy”

“Well, who’s making the decisions?”

The president looked at her with his tired eyes.

“As I told you yesterday, if they’re following the Constitution, which I’m sure they are, the powers of the presidency will have been transferred to Vice President Baxter.”

Jones rolled her eyes.

“That isn’t good news.” The president did nothing at first and then nodded slowly in agreement.

“Why wouldn’t he send in the FBI?”

“I don’t know. Valerie.” Hayes sounded very impatient. The tension and lack of sleep were working on his nerves.

“Well, it makes no sense.” Jones moved forward cautiously.

“Everything you said about the FBI striking before sunrise made sense. I don’t understand why they wouldn’t have come.”

“There’s a lot we don’t know about. They could have plenty of good reasons why they’re waiting to attack.”

Jones was keenly aware of the problems between President Hayes and Vice President Baxter. She and the president had discussed them on many occasions. If she could get the president to focus his anger on Baxter, her minor role in this debacle would be forgotten.

In a voice just barely above a mumble, Jones planted the seed that she hoped would shift the president’s righteous thoughts in a different direction.

“Or Baxter likes being president.”