Authors: C. G. Cooper
“Good flight, Mr. Haden?” asked the smaller of the two agents.
“Please, call me Travis. We’re in the same line of work, remember?”
The agent smiled. “Of course.” He turned to Cal and Daniel. “Gentlemen, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”
Cal offered his hand. “How they hangin’, Brett?”
Brett Stayer, a fifteen year veteran, and now head of the president’s security detail, grinned. “Can’t complain.” He turned and shook Daniel’s hand, offering only a nod. “We’ve got a Suburban waiting out front. Let’s grab your bags and head out.”
The three man team from SSI had at first declined the Secret Service escort. That was until Stayer had insisted, wanting to repay the debt his agency owed the two Marines from their role in uncovering (and keeping quiet about) the involvement of one of the former president’s agents who’d plotted to kill the first lady.
After collecting their bags, the group stepped out into the cold.
President Zimmer looked up from
The Washington Times
and stood when the three men entered the presidential residence.
“It’s great to see you guys.” He shook everyone’s hand.
“Will that be all, sir?” asked Stayer.
“Thanks for picking them up at the airport, Brett. Did we get identification for these guys?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll have them waiting in the Oval Office.”
“Great. See you in a few minutes.”
Stayer left. The others took a seat around the dining room table. A butler appeared as if out of thin air. “Gentlemen, can I get you anything for breakfast?”
Zimmer spoke up first. “I’ll have three eggs, over easy, with a sliced avocado on the side.”
“Yes, Mr. President. And you gentlemen?”
Travis, Cal and Daniel put in their orders. The butler nodded without writing down a thing, an abrupt about face taking him back to the kitchen.
“He turned like a Marine,” Cal observed.
Zimmer chuckled. “Good eye. Lester’s fairly new around here. I’m his third boss. Before that, he retired from the Marine Corps as a Master Sergeant.”
They made small talk, Travis explaining the transition going on at SSI.
“I won’t say that I’m not disappointed about Miss Haines not helping me here, but I can see why you chose her to take over as CEO. Smart gal.”
The butler returned pushing a cart laden with dome-covered plates. He served the president first, then Cal. “Thanks, Top.”
Lester’s eyebrow rose. “Marine?”
“Staff Sergeant Calvin Stokes, Master Sergeant. Sitting next to me is Sergeant Daniel Briggs. We won’t talk about my cousin over there. He was just a SEAL.”
The butler shook Cal’s hand. “Master Sergeant Lester Miles, Mr. Stokes.” He looked at the President. “I thought I told you to be careful about hanging out with Marines, Mr. President.”
Zimmer laughed.
While serving the remaining guests, former MSgt Lester Miles explained that he’d been a machine gunner after graduating from Parris Island, only to be lat-moved to culinary services after someone found out that he’d grown up in a restaurant business, earning the title of head chef at the age of eighteen.
“You ever run into a Master Sergeant Trent?” Travis asked, knowing it was a long shot.
Miles looked up in surprise. “Master Sergeant Willy Trent?”
“Yeah.”
“Willy was my NCOIC when they lat-moved me. Made the transition a lot easier. Good man. How do you gentlemen know him?”
“He’s works with us,” said Cal. “Keeps us fat and happy while kicking our asses in the gym.”
Miles laughed. “That sounds like Willy. You tell him I said hello, okay?”
“Will do.”
The butler nodded to the President and disappeared again.
Zimmer shook his head as he cut into his first egg. “Do all Marines know each other?”
It was Cal who answered. “Only the good ones, Mr. President.”
After finishing their meal, the four men headed down to the Oval Office, shadowed discreetly by the President’s security detail.
Stepping in after Zimmer, Cal immediately recognized the three men waiting.
“General McMillan, Secretary Dryburgh, Senator Southgate, I’d like to introduce you to my new Chief of Staff, Travis Haden, and his colleagues, my friends, Cal Stokes and Daniel Briggs.”
General McMillan stepped forward first. “I know you’re a SEAL, Mr. Haden, but I hope you don’t mind if I give my fellow Marines here an oorah.”
“No, sir. I’m used to it.”
McMillan shook Cal’s hand and then stepped in front of Daniel, who felt suddenly out of place. Almost reverently, the Senior Officer of the United States Armed Forces offered his hand to Daniel. When Daniel took it, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs pulled Briggs closer, whispering something in his ear. Daniel nodded, looking slightly embarrassed.
“Do you two know each other, General?” asked Dryburgh.
“I know who Mr. Briggs is, Mr. Secretary.” McMillan didn’t explain further. Cal looked to his friend, eyebrow arched.
“Why don’t we get down to business, gentlemen,” suggested the President.
Everyone followed his lead, taking a seat in one of the lounge chairs. Cal kept his eyes on the President, all the while wondering why Senator Southgate seemed to be staring icy daggers at him.
What’s got that old fart in a twist?
Cal figured it was probably the inclusion of Washington outsiders on the stalwart senator’s home turf.
Cal couldn’t have been more wrong.
Senator Southgate spent most of the meeting nodding and observing the President’s friends. They were outsiders, something Southgate didn’t like. He had to be careful. They were the President’s men, not to be taken lightly. He’d only just found out about the new Chief of Staff the day before when the request had come from the President to meet.
As he rode in the Lincoln Towncar back to his office, he replayed the exchange in his head, still not comfortable with the level of familiarity between the strangers and the President. It seemed as though Congressman McKnight’s insights were accurate. But he needed proof.
+++
The president loosened his tie. “I think that went fairly well.”
Travis nodded thoughtfully. “No problem with McMillan, and I’d say Dryburgh was friendly enough. But Southgate…”
“It takes a bit to get used to him. My dad used to say that Old Southgate was the final wall holding the Senate back from bursting into the twenty-first century. He likes his order and rules with an iron fist.”
“Do you think he’ll be a problem?”
“I don’t think so. He’s by-the-book, but I think his heart’s in the right place. A Democrat through and through.”
Cal wasn’t convinced. “I don’t think he likes the idea of Travis being your Chief of Staff. Couldn’t you feel the contempt coming off the guy?”
Travis shrugged, unaffected as usual. “I don’t really care what he thinks. I’m here to do a job, for as long as the President wants me.”
“Senator Southgate will be fine. If you have any problems with him, let me know,” said the President.
+++
Cal and Daniel left the Commander in Chief and his new right hand man to their business. They hadn’t even been in town for half a day and already Cal was getting the itch to leave. “How about we go for a little walk?”
Daniel nodded, unfazed by the mountains of snow outside.
Once they’d left the White House behind, walking between the wall of shoveled snow on either side of the road, Cal asked. “What did General McMillan say to you?”
Daniel colored just noticeably. “He wanted to say thank you.”
“You know him?”
“I knew who he was, but he obviously knows a lot more about me.”
“What do you mean?”
“He said he knew about the CMH, and that he knew why I didn’t get it.”
The Congressional Medal of Honor is the nation’s highly military award for valor in combat. Then Sgt. Briggs was nominated, and would have received the medal if he hadn’t gone to the former president personally and asked for the nomination to be pulled. The president had done so, mostly because Daniel had been part of the team who’d saved the president’s life.
“Is that all he said?” Cal knew all about the award.
“No. He said if I ever needed anything, not to hesitate to contact him.”
Cal glanced at his friend. “Well, that could be helpful.”
Daniel looked up for the first time. “What do you mean?”
Cal grinned mischievously. “It’s always nice to have a Marine general on retainer.”
+++
Secretary of State Dryburgh told his driver to take the long way back to the office. He needed time to think, time to digest what he’d just witnessed. Southgate was obviously pissed, sitting there with a stick up his ass, seething no doubt.
Without being told, Dryburgh guessed that the three men he’d just met weren’t just former military; they were very likely current operators either in one of the government’s intelligence agencies, or possibly working for a private security corporation.
In his travels and in his time in government, Dryburgh had met his fair share of hired guns. While the president’s friends didn’t look like meatheads, they certainly had the subtle look of ruthless warriors.
The Secretary of State picked up his secure handset and pressed a preset number. “This is Secretary Dryburgh. I need you to pull a couple files for me.”
+++
They were back in sight of The White House after a chilly thirty minute jaunt when Cal’s phone buzzed. It was Neil Patel, SSI’s vice president of R&D and a virtual Rolodex with important contacts eclectically gathered over the years of mingling in the higher echelons of tech and moneyed society. “What’s up, Neil?”
“You somewhere you can talk?”
“Yeah.”
“Just thought you should know that we’re already getting pings on your records, both through headquarters Marine Corps and the FBI.”
The tech whiz had his automated systems, which he’d personally programmed, constantly on the lookout for information requests on key SSI personnel. He’d explained it to Cal by equating it to a Google Alert. “You know when you set a Google Alert for a certain term or keyword, and whenever something’s posted online with that string of words, you get an alert?”
“Sure.”
“Well, this kinda works the same way. If someone working at the CIA goes to pull up information on you, I get an alert detailing who did it and the information they accessed.”
“Wouldn’t you have to have access to the CIA’s network?”
Patel had just shrugged, as if to say that such a thing were no big deal.
“Who put in the requests?”
“One came from the State Department, and another came from the FBI.”
“That has to be Dryburgh and Southgate,” Cal said.
“How do you know that?”
“We just had a meeting with them.”
Neil whistled. “It sure didn’t take them long. How did you piss them off?” Neil knew of Cal’s dislike of politicians, a trait he’d had since their time together at the University of Virginia.
“I was very nice. Ask Daniel.”
“He was very nice,” said Daniel, loud enough for Neil to hear.
“You want me to look into it?” asked Neil.
“Let’s hold off for now. I’ll bet they just wanted to know who we are. I’d do the same thing.”
“Okay, but let me know if you need my help.”
“I will. Thanks, Neil.”
Daniel looked at his friend once the call ended. “What are you thinking?”
“I think I better keep my mouth shut or I’m liable to piss off a whole bunch of people in this town.”
The pub was packed. Federal employees mingled with college co-eds over drink specials inspired by the crappy weather. With the blizzard wreaking havoc on local roadways, many employers opted to allow their employees to work from home or have a day off. The crowd at the old bar wasn’t necessarily rowdy, but it was easy to see that many had spent most of their day in the tastefully appointed establishment.
Steve Stricklin seemed to be the only patron not enjoying himself. He sat in a corner booth, much to the annoyance of the proprietor, who had more than once asked to have the table for the swelling crowd.
Stricklin had finally said, “FBI,” and flashed his old bureau ID card.