Transfer of Power

DALLAS KING WAS standing in a small office across the hall from the FBI’s command post. He had been there for five frustrating minutes while a paramedic worked on Tutwiler. King looked down at the attorney general and shook his head.

The paramedic that was checking her out finished taking her blood pressure and said, “I think she’s in shock.”

“Shit.” King paced back and forth. “So what are you telling me? Can she speak to the press or not?”

“No.” The female paramedic, who was still on one knee, frowned.

“She needs to get to a hospital.” Tutwiler was sitting frozen on a brown leather couch, her eyes staring blankly into space.

King placed his hands over his mouth and swore three times in rapid succession. Next, he grabbed at his hair and said, “I fucking knew it.”

Turning back toward the paramedic, he said, “Take her to Bethesda, and I don’t want anyone talking to her.” King yanked the door open and began marching down the hallway, his arms swinging wildly. When he reached the other side of the building, he ignored the gaggle of Secret Service agents standing outside the conference room and entered without knocking.

King slammed the door behind him and screamed an expletive.

Vice President Baxter, startled by the unexpected intrusion, spun around in his chair with a look of thorough irritation on his face.

“Dallas, I said I wanted to be alone.”

“The stupid bitch is in shock.”

“What?” asked a confused Baxter.

“Tutwiler… the bitch is in shock… she cracked.” An angry expression contorted King’s face.

“She can’t talk… She’s on her way to the hospital.”

Baxter closed his eyes and moaned, “oh great.”

King began pacing up and down next to the conference table, while Baxter buried his face in his cupped hands.

“It’s nothing we can’t handle,” insisted King, trying to find an angle, a way to spin the story. “It’sjust a temporary setback.”

King walked the length of the room twice and then said, “I’ll leak it through the right sources that the whole thing was Marge’s idea, and when it blew up in her face, she cracked… and then we’ll have Director Roach handle the press briefing.

We’ll be fine.”

With his face still in his hands, Baxter added, “For now.”

Then lifting his head up, he said, “This thing is only going to get worse. We are going to have to storm that place eventually, and from what everyone is telling me, we are going to lose a lot of hostages.

It’s just like I told you yesterday, Dallas; we are screwed.” Baxter growled the last word.

“Any way you slice it, I’m going to have the blood of a lot of people on my hands, and my name will forever be associated with this damn mess.”

King shook his head.

“Nothing’s over. If there’s a way out of this, I’ll find it.” Rubbing his hands together as if he were trying to warm them up, he said, “For now, we continue to walk this thin line. Marge is out of commission, so we’ll move Director Roach and the FBI to the forefront. If this sick bastard releases one-third of the hostages, we should probably have a photo op with you consoling them. It won’t hurt for you to take credit for that, but once it’s over and he starts making his next demands, you should keep a low profile.

This isn’t over yet, Sherman. Stay with me.”