Transfer of Power

JACK WARCH WAS on his fourth set of crunches, the modern-day version of the much-hated sit-up. He had considered skipping his daily regimen, but decided he had nothing better to do. Warch did four hundred crunches every day of the week except Sunday, and on alternate days he threw in two hundred push-ups, a three-to-five-mile jog, and some stretching. He had it down to a science, which allowed him to stay in shape without spending hours at the gym.

As Warch finished his crunches, he eyed the pile of weapons sitting on the table across the room. The sight was irritating. All of that hardware and a room full of the best trained bodyguards in the world and the president wanted them to surrender. It was ingrained in Warch’s psyche to win, not to lose. Coming from the old vince Lombard! school of “Show me a good loser, and I’ll show you a loser,” Warch couldn’t stand the thought of them raising their hands in surrender.

He had risen to the most coveted post in the Secret Service by sheer dogged determination, and he was sure now there had to be a better alternative than surrendering.

That’s when it hit him, with three more crunches to go.

Warch stopped, hands firmly clasped behind his neck, staring at the mound of black steel on the table. Some of the most accurate and lethal firepower made and nine highly trained individuals.

Warch’s mind started to scramble. He saw a crack, a slight opening, a way to pull off a Hail Mary. Jumping to his feet, he almost blurted out his idea, but forced himself to sit down on his bunk and think things through thoroughly. He had to have this planned. He had to be able to head off all objections and sell it to the president.