CHAPTER 1

President Ann Kinji had requested a private meeting with Agent Estep. Yet when he arrived in her office, he was taken aback by how many people were crammed in what was usually a spacious room. He tried to do a quick head count and gave up. Thirty? Forty? Obviously this meeting was anything but private.

Sit or stand, your choice. Ann stared intently at the one empty chair at the table. Estep sat.

We’re ready for you, Madam President, said someone with a grating voice and oddly rectangular-shaped head. On his command the wall of screens behind President Ann Kinji illuminated the darkened room.

Estep recognized the information on the display as the crack in the Social Media Channel. The crack was a virtual hang-out for people who didn’t want their conversations tracked. The highest levels of government were well aware of the crack, but were leaving it alone for now to spy on it. Hackers would likely detect Big Brother’s presence within the week, and promptly clear out, but until then gathering intelligence was as easy as staring at a screen; watching a feature presentation in which every character incriminates himself. Estep half expected popcorn to be served.

President Ann stepped in front of the wall of screens, a movement that created a flurry of chain reaction as every person in the room leaned forward at rapt attention. She subconsciously tossed her famous Kinji-cut locks – a simple bob made glamorous by a sheen that was born out of a combination of genetics and healthy living.

Ann addressed everyone in the room with an intensity that dressed each person down individually and intimately. I called you here today to get all of this out in the open. Some of you were involved with Operation Covert Coffee. In a nutshell, Covert Coffee exposed a conspiracy to assassinate the President, which would be me.

An audible collective gasp went up.

Ann waved her hand, a flick of the wrist that was another of her trademark gestures. Oh don’t insult my intelligence by pretending that you didn’t know; move on from that quickly, ladies and gentlemen. I’ll get right down to it: As President of the newly Re-united States of America, I am nothing more than a figurehead. Perhaps that’s been true throughout all of American history, but clearly we have a problem.

Ann paused and peered into the full room at her captive audience. Nothing was heard except for the sounds coming from a heavy breather who was whistling through clogged sinuses with every breath. Heads turned toward the offending breather. Ann redirected their attention to the front of the room.

It’s time for a Show and Tell demonstration. Let me introduce all of the main players in our little game we call government. First, we have the presiding officer of the chamber, the Speaker of the House, who is third in the line of succession to the Presidency. Give us a wave, Joe.

Speaker of the House Joseph Smythe stood, waved, and grinned. He was received by a few snickers and a lone round of applause. He sat back down.

"Shall we begin with a history lesson? The Constitution doesn’t require that the Speaker be an elected Member of Congress. Nonetheless, no non-member has ever been elected to the office until this administration. Naturally the norm is that members of the House vote for their own party's candidate, but apparently this time around there was opposition to electing the party’s favorite – Joseph Smythe is not a Member. Several within the majority party refused to jump on board and therefore were penalized: they were stripped of seniority and all committee posts.

Make note of these issues I’ve highlighted for you. Mr. Speaker Joseph Smythe was elected as a non-member, his appointment was not well received by many members of his own party, and, most importantly, after the Vice President, Mr. Speaker is next in line for the office of the presidency.

Please stand, Mr. Speaker of the House, Joseph Smythe. In fact, do us a favor and step forward. Stand next to me. You’ll be forming a line right here, boys." Ann’s gesture looked like she was ground guiding a fork truck.

Smythe sauntered over to the exact spot Ann pointed out to him. If he resented being brought to the head of the class like a naughty schoolboy, it didn’t show on his face or in his demeanor.

Smythe was a man of average height, but had the appearance of looking much taller due to his lanky frame. His boyish face was out of sync with the medium-brown hair that was graying at the temples. He wore a well-tailored suit that had been purchased off-the-rack, tweaked by a skilled tailor and carefully selected to bring out the blue in his eyes. His eyes dropped slightly at the corners, but turned up significantly when smiling. The creases on his face indicated that more smiles than frowns had aged him.

Ann stood much shorter next to Smythe, which gave Smythe a fatherly look. She faced the crowded room that was growing uncomfortably warmer with each passing minute.

"Continuing on, in both pre-‘Big War’ United States and now, the role of the speakership of the House is this: He actively works to set a party's legislative agenda; the office is endowed with considerable political power. Let me cite an example of a time in American history when the Speaker of the House was a controversial figure. Tip O'Neill comes to mind. O’Neill opposed the policies of President Ronald Reagan; challenging Reagan on defense expenditures, among other things. He was notorious for kicking up a fuss.

Smythe, like Tip O’Neill from days gone by, has actively opposed many of my policies. It is important to note that Joseph Smythe has an impressive amount of influence in the House and Senate, as well as the respect of the media. His rhetoric is more often quoted than any other political figure, barring yours truly."

Smythe stood and pantomimed tipping a hat at the crowd. Polite laughter briefly surfaced but was stopped cold when Ann pierced the mirth with one reproachful gaze.

"Let’s move along from Mr. Speaker. I call Vice President Lehman to the front. I don’t need to tell you that Lehman is next in line to the presidency. However, he is a new appointment, and my personal choice – we can dismiss Lehman as a threat for these and other reasons. I want him up here for a different reason. He is a stand-in for the VP that many of you seated right here in this very room wanted in this position instead of Lehman.

As you can see, Lehman is holding a sign with a familiar face on it. Surely you recognize that face?"

Lehman had made his way through the packed room and was now standing on the other side of Smythe. He held a poster print of Governor Carson Landon at chest-level. Carson’s face flashed a campaign trail smile. In contrast to the Carson sign he displayed, Lehman kept his own face expressionless. He selected a focal point on the back wall and stared at it while Ann resumed her presentation.

To be clear: forget Lehman. Focus on Carson, that’s who is represented here in this line-up. We know that Carson was talking to someone from the Global Oil Initiative in the crack in the Social Media Channel. I have it on the screen right now. Let’s read it together, shall we?

Ann nodded to her IT right-hand man who promptly loaded the file that Ann had ordered shortly before the meeting. The file had been quickly converted from text-only to text-to-speech. It now scrolled across the wall of screens while audio narrated the dialog between Carson and an unknown person:

45671: It’s going down at the Global Oil Initiative.

23987: I want assurances.

45671: I can’t do that. I’ve been told she’ll name me as the VP selection at GOB. I can’t verify it.

23987: We need you in.

45671: I know that.

23987: We’re down to a year. She won’t be out of office before the agreement, she needs to be taken out.

45671: I know, you’ve made yourself clear. I told you, I’m working on it.

23987: The last guy we tapped got cold feet, and now his toes are tagged.

45671: Don’t threaten me.

23987: I’m not. I’m telling you what will happen if you don’t hold up your end of our arrangement.

45671: I have no intention of backing out. I stand to benefit just as much as you do.

23987: Good to know.

45671: She contacted me right away. I don’t think Morgan’s body was even cold yet. No one will be surprised, she talked to the media about me a couple of weeks ago. All looks good.

23987: Then what’s the problem?

45671: I’m saying I can’t guarantee it. She could change her mind last minute. I’ve done my part.

23987: There’s no one else she’s even mentioned as a VP choice, no one but you.

45671: Even so, I’m saying I can’t guarantee it. I can only say that it looks like a done deal. She’s announcing at the press conference at GOB.

23987: That would be immediately following the initiative then.

45671: I assume.

23987: All interested parties will be at GOB.

45671: I know that.

23987: They expect to see you.

45671: I’ll be there.

23987: In person meets are discouraged obviously, but they’ll be watching you.

45671: What are you telling me?

23987: Look sharp.

45671: You contacted me. I told you all I know. What are you saying?

23987: Some don’t trust you. Watch your back.

45671: I told you that I’m on board. I’ve done all that you have asked. Are you telling me that they might kill me anyway?

23987: That’s what I’m telling you.

45671: I don’t know what more I can do to gain their trust.

23987: Turn up, be ready to give assurances.

45671: I said I’d be there.

"All of this was discovered in Operation Covert Coffee. The GOB initiative went off without a hitch, and Carson Landon was not present at the event. However, Carson is still out there, and I want to know what he’s up to. His week-long retreat away from the Governor’s mansion was scheduled months in advance, supplying him with a reason for his absence. But he’s not there. No one has arrived at the vacation home on his itinerary.

Our last contact with him was when he turned up during the investigation I referred to earlier, Operation Covert Coffee. Classified at a security level that most of you here don’t have-- and never will have-- clearance for, you shouldn’t know anything about this, but I have a strong feeling that you do."

The sound of rustling feet and throat clearing confirmed her suspicions. She paused, narrowed her eyes in accusation, then resumed speaking.

How did Carson know where to find my team? How did he get involved? And where is he now? I need answers.

Ann studied her fidgeting audience before resuming. I notice a number of raised eyebrows on your faces – which has also been duly noted by my expert profilers, courtesy of the FBI. Ann indicated two people in suits, one male and one female, each positioned to view everyone in the room.

"Ah, surprised again, I see. All of you have been under observation from the moment you stepped into the room. Your reaction to my inquisition into the whereabouts of Governor Carson Landon might reflect your innocence, or it might not.

Yes, Carson was initially my own preference for VP, and even someone I thought of as a friend. I certainly can’t blame anyone else for this predicament.

For those of you wondering about my true feelings about Carson’s predecessor, Morgan Canon, what you heard from the media was dead on. Morgan was never my pick; I was vocal about that. I was right not to trust Morgan but wrong about placing my trust in Carson. I shouldn’t have believed either of them.

I’ve always viewed myself as a person who possesses a gift for discernment, but I was way off the mark with Carson Landon. If not for the efforts of all the agents and investigators involved in Operation Covert Coffee, I would have played into your hand. I would have tapped Carson to replace Morgan, which is exactly what you expected me to do.

It turns out that both candidates were in the pockets of the mysterious powers that are operating independently of this office, so if Morgan failed them, they had Carson at the ready. It seems they had a backup to the backup and I fell for it - both vice presidential candidates had been purchased by unknown power players. Of course I want to know the name of every person involved.

The most logical place to start is with Carson Landon. Find him and learn the identity of the person he was talking to. Who is 23987?"

There was momentary confusion when several law enforcement heads questioned whether or not they should be popping out of their seats to assemble teams at this exact second, or if the president was not finished with them yet. The restlessness of the crowd created a comical stir.

Ann waited for the noise to settle before she began again. "I’m not finished yet. We need to add a couple more to the line-up.

Before moving on, let’s review what any intern should already know: The Vice President of the United States serves as President of the Senate, casting the decisive vote in the event of a tie in the Senate. Wow, how convenient it would be to hand-pick the VP you want casting those precious decisive votes! No wonder our friends wanted to make sure they had a puppet in place.

I’ll also remind you that the Senate has the sole power to confirm Presidential appointments that require consent and to ratify treaties, with a couple of exceptions, but you get the idea. The point is, the power the Senate has is considerable, perhaps formidable. And with term lengths six years long, with no term limits, some of our senators have had practically a life-time membership in the Old Boys’ Club.

It is with these thoughts in mind that I ask Senator William Casey and Senator Robert Lorry to come forward. Take your place in line, gentlemen."

Senators Casey and Lorry ambled to the front of the room. They obediently took their place in line, but unlike Smythe, who managed to maintain somewhat of an amused smirk on his face throughout this entire presentation, and Lehman, who remained stoic, both Casey and Lorry held pinched and petulant expressions. Although in all fairness, defensiveness and culpability may not have had anything to do with the reason behind these sour faces; they had looked this way for most of their lives.

Senators Casey and Lorry, two long-time members representing both sides of the aisle, represent the heart of the Senate. I know that we’ve reformed and there’s not supposed to be definitive party lines anymore, but no one is fooled by these redefinitions. The division in our nation is just as bitter as before the Big War, and new labels aren’t going to make that go away. But I digress.

Ann strolled in front of the line of men, all of whom dwarfed her diminutive stature. Yet somehow she remained an intimidating force. She used a sweeping hand gesture to indicate all of them as a whole.

"Take a long look. Is it Colonel Mustard in the kitchen with a knife? Or Professor Plum in the billiard room with a revolver?

I’m calling upon our best people in every agency we currently have, and I’m creating new ones as well – agencies that my hand-picked crew will build from scratch. We have to clean house, and find all those who are working against us, all those with their own agenda, all those working outside of the system, and all those who are traitors to our country! I don’t care how big the sweep is, I want every bad apple tossed out.

Agents: cancel all vacation plans and make your apologies now to your family members – you will be living here, and in the field, until our mission is accomplished. Consider this the game of Clue from hell. No one will be let out of the game until we reveal all the cards.

As we begin round one, study the gentlemen in this line-up and then cast an even longer look around this room. These are your suspects. Finally, hold up a mirror. One of you, more than one of you actually, wants me dead."

CHAPTER 2

Beav was in the field and had gone dark – literally. He was mucking about in a corn field in the middle of the night; the moonlight bouncing off of his olive skin, his hairline damp with sweat, his nostrils clogged by gnats and his pulse racing. Serena Wilcox was long gone and Operation Bluebird Flown was well underway. Taking Carson’s unintentional advice, Beav and Estep were working together, except that only Agent Estep’s role would ever see the light of day. If all went well Beav would remain a ghost.

While Estep, on the official side of this operation, was digesting his thoughts