Authors: C. G. Cooper
Precisely at 4:30 p.m., Congressman Antonio McKnight entered the room. He was alone. This surprised Southgate. The young Republican was known for his entourage.
This should be interesting
, thought the Democrat from Arizona. He’d never met McKnight in person, but like everyone in Washington, he’d seen plenty of the handsome man on television.
“Senator Southgate, thank you so much for seeing me.” McKnight walked around the conference table to shake hands.
“You said it was important.”
McKnight nodded, taking a seat at the head of the table.
He thinks he belongs in that chair
, Southgate mused. The senior senator had chosen a neutral chair in the middle of the ten person table.
Exhaling dramatically, McKnight smiled. “Quite an interesting couple of months, wouldn’t you say?”
Southgate wasn’t going to give the upstart an inch. He’d learned long ago that it was better to sit and listen. Instead of answering, he nodded.
“I can only imagine what was going through your head when you heard about the President resigning. Were you there?” asked McKnight.
“I was not.”
“I was in Miami. I’m still in shock.”
Again, a non-committal nod from Southgate. There was silence as the congressman gathered his thoughts.
Southgate leaned forward an inch, looking over his glasses like a school teacher. “May I call you Antonio?”
“Call me Tony.”
“Antonio, I don’t mean to be inhospitable, but I drove through a snowstorm to meet you. Maybe we could get to the point.” It wasn’t said condescendingly. In fact, it was just the opposite, like a high school teacher patiently showing his student how to get a handle on calculus.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. Like I said, I can only imagine how much upheaval the President’s resignation has caused. My party took it in the teeth when Nixon left, leaving Ford to pick up the pieces.” McKnight paused again, looking down at his hands. “Now, I know we’re on opposite sides of the aisle, but I think we can both agree that Zimmer, excuse me, President Zimmer, while likable, may not be the best fit to lead this country.”
Southgate’s eyes narrowed. “Why should I care what you think? You’re talking about the President of the United States, an upstanding member of my party.”
McKnight’s hands upturned in front of him. “Come on, Senator, you probably didn’t like it when a first-term congressman took over a very influential seat in the Senate. Now he’s President? You can’t tell me that doesn’t piss you off.”
“Once again, I fail to see why I should sit and listen to your opinion. Then Congressman Zimmer won his father’s vacated seat honestly and overwhelmingly. His appointment to vice president was endorsed by both parties. He didn’t choose to be president. We all saw the look on his face at the news conference. Shock, plain and simple. He’s making the best of a very trying situation. Many of us have stepped forward to lend our expertise, and President Zimmer continues to be open to discussion in an extremely bipartisan manner. So, I will ask you one last time, Congressman, why should I sit and let you disparage
our
president?”
Congressman Antonio McKnight placed his hands palm down on the conference table, a grin tugging at his cheek. “What if I told you that Zimmer planned the whole thing?”
There was a knock at the door. Cal lay sprawled on the leather couch in his suite at The Lodge, reading a W.E.B. Griffin novel. His favorite stories about the Marine Corps. He wasn’t expecting company, as evidenced by his attire: a pair of workout shorts and no shirt.
Rolling off the couch and onto his feet, Cal padded to the door and looked through the peep hole. It was Travis.
Cal opened the door. “Did you just get in?”
“Yeah, it wasn’t fun, but we made it down through the weather.”
“You look like shit.”
“Thanks. You mind if I come in?”
Cal swept his hand toward the spacious living area.
“How was the trip? You didn’t tell me you were going.”
Travis shrugged, stripping his coat off and putting it on a leather lounger. “It was fine. Mind if I grab a night cap?”
Cal motioned to the well-stocked bar, slightly concerned by his cousin’s uncharacteristic restraint. Of the two, Travis was the more outgoing. Always had been.
After pouring a drink, the SEAL kicked his shoes off and sat on the couch, careful to keep from spilling the full glass. Cal sat across from him in an armchair.
“You gonna tell me what’s going on?”
Travis sipped his drink, thinking. “I got an offer from the President.”
“What kind of an offer?”
Another sip and a pause. “He wants me to come work for him.”
A bark of a laugh escaped Cal’s mouth. “What? You’re kidding.”
Travis shook his head. “He needs help, Cal.”
“Help doing what, getting the country deeper in debt?”
The dirty blond CEO rested the glass on his knee and stared at his younger cousin. “Come on, Cal, be serious.”
“I am being serious, Trav. What on God’s green Earth would he want
you
to do for him?”
“He’s getting it from all sides, doesn’t know who to trust. Frankly, he’s pretty down right now. You should’ve heard what Marge said.”
“What did she say?”
“She said he should take a look in the mirror and grow a pair.”
Another laugh. “Maybe she’s right.” Cal clasped his hands behind his head, leaning back.
“He’s our friend, Cal. You wouldn’t leave me to be fed to the wolves, would you?”
“Of course not, but you’re not the President. What
exactly
does he want you to do?”
“He wants me to be his Chief of Staff.”
“What happened to the old Chief of Staff?”
“He’s still there, but Brandon doesn’t trust him. Said he treats him like a child.”
“Well, he is the youngest president in history.”
“Cut the crap, Cal. I need to talk to you about this.”
The smile left Cal’s face. Travis was right; Brandon Zimmer was a friend, even if he was the President. “Are you really thinking about doing it?”
“Marge doesn’t think I should.”
“Why not?”
“SSI for one, but she also thinks Zimmer’s on his way out.”
Cal sat up. “What do you mean?”
“She thinks he’ll either burn out or get forced to go.”
“But he was appointed fairly. Who would do something like that?”
“Take your pick. I’ll bet there are a bunch of politicians who are pissed about Brandon being in office. After thinking about it on the way home, I think she’s right. If I was in line to be president and some rookie cut in line…you know how ruthless those bastards are.”
Cal knew. If it were up to him, every crooked politician would be burned at the stake. “And you want to jump in the middle of this with him?”
“I don’t know if I have a choice.”
They sat quietly, Travis taking bigger and bigger gulps from his cocktail. Cal thought it was noble of his cousin to even consider the President’s request, but he was afraid of the repercussions. “Wait, why did Marge go with you? Why didn’t you take me or Dunn?”
Travis shook the ice in the bottom of the empty glass. “The President invited her to come.”
The hair on the back of Cal’s neck stood on end. “And?”
“He wants her to come to D.C. and help with appointing new cabinet members when the time is right.”
Cal’s eyes went wide. “He can’t fucking do that! That’s two of our top leaders, goddammit!”
His cousin shrugged. “That’s what Marge said. She’s already called to tell the President no. She said she’d do what she could to help from here.”
“Well that’s a relief. What about you?”
“I think I’m gonna do it.”
“Jeez, Trav. Have you thought about the company,
our
company? Who will run things while you’re off saving the President?”
Travis held out his tumbler. “You will.”
+++
Washington, D.C.
Senator Milton Southgate hadn’t left his office since concluding the meeting with Congressman McKnight. He’d cancelled dinner plans with a friend, sighting the worsening weather. In reality, Sen. Southgate had too much to think about. Unmoving in his dimly lit cocoon, a Civil War era clock ticking on the corner of his desk, the veteran politician replayed McKnight’s accusations over and over.
At first he’d scoffed at the idea, but as the evidence stacked up precariously in the air between the two bureaucrats, Southgate found himself coming to believe what the popular Florida congressman was saying. “I’ve looked into this myself, Senator. Trust me when I tell you that I would not have brought this to you unless I honestly believed it was true. I don’t want our country hurt by yet another scandal.”
While the cautious senator didn’t believe McKnight’s motives, of which he was still curious, the revelations had stirred something in Southgate. The statesman from Arizona believed in order. He thought the new distractions of technology and social media a fad. He’d never carried a personal cell phone and never would. More than anything, he believed in his party’s place in the history of the United States of America. As a teenager he’d had books on great Democrats like FDR and JFK. He never developed the charisma of such men, but Southgate believed in his soul that the Democratic Party was the party of the future, anointed from heaven to lead the United States, and one day a world under one flag.
Senator Milton Southgate didn’t want to be president, and never had. He preferred to work behind the scenes to safeguard the dream, to take care of the people. His social welfare programs had helped untold thousands, if not millions, to find a better life. He truly believed that.
He’d known since the moment he heard the last President’s speech appointing Zimmer to his post that a solution would present itself to right the wrong. The idea lay hidden, never once uttered from Southgate’s lips. Instead, he showered the new President with wisdom and insight. Now…now he had a way out, a way to replace a piece of the Capitol chessboard.
He sat in his darkened office until after the antique grandfather clock in the foyer clanged midnight. Now was not the time for sleep. Now was the time for action.
Cal pushed himself through the snowdrift, his quads screaming in protest. The gale slapped him in the face, telling him to turn back. He ignored the pain and ran on toward the rising sun. Sleep had never come after the conversation with Travis, which had ended with Cal flat out refusing to take over as CEO.
“I’m too young. I’ve got a lot going on right now.”
“You don’t think I was too young when your dad died? Come on, Cal, this is your company. It’s time to man up and do what you need to do.”
The memory burned almost as much as the strain. Plumes of white breath trailed behind, mimicking his feelings. Cal had never thought of SSI as
his
company. Sure, it was his dad’s company, and he was the sole heir, but the company had grown larger than his father probably ever would have imagined. Neil Patel’s division alone easily financed the extracurricular activities Cal and his teams planned daily, off the official record, of course, and there were millions to spare.
Cal knew he was smart. He’d always had the mind to lead, but his heart couldn’t be shackled to a boardroom. He preferred to be where he was, with his men, taking the fight to the enemy. He’d left the Marine Corps, but the Marine still lived in him.
I’m a warrior, not a businessman
.
Travis was going to Washington and Cal would soon be strapped to a desk, making sales calls, schmoozing with potential clients and reading endless reams of financial reports. The thought made Cal want to gag. Or was it the harsh pace he was pushing, snow caking his feet and calves?
He finally stopped at a small rise overlooking the campus, breathing deeply. It was the company cemetery. Five headstones poked their ivory tops above the snow. Reverently, Cal cleared the white powder from each of the tombstones, reading the inscriptions, remembering the men, his men, who had died on the snow-covered mountain in Wyoming. The others had been buried near their respective families, his good friend Brian Ramirez among them.
The final stone took the most time, not because it was larger; in fact, it was the smallest of the bunch. To Cal it was sacred ground, a place where he’d made a promise not long ago to the beautiful girl who now lay six feet beneath that very spot. His Jessica.
“What should I do, Jess?”
Only the slight wind against his running jacket answered, ruffling his collar. He stood thinking, wondering, hoping the answer would come.