63
Monday, March 15, 2021, 12:00PM Eastern Daylight Time
“Come in, Terry,” Maxfield King said.
Terry Sweeney sidled over to a chair opposite Max’s desk.
“What’s up?” he said. “And what, am I not good enough for the big office in Main State?”
Max smiled. “I’m not confirmed by the Senate yet,” he said. “That’s next week.”
“That hasn’t stopped a lot of other appointees from squatting in their offices as Acting Secretaries,” Terry said.
“Well, I have a special deal with the President,” Max said. “I told him I needed official status. Now that the GOP has the Senate again, largely thanks to me, by the way, I asked him to have me confirmed for real. Until I am, I’ll leave that place to the Swamp. They know I’m coming, though.”
“So, what do you need me for?”
“We have a problem.”
“Really?”
“It’s Joe.”
“Joe Durcan?”
“Yes.”
“He seems like a solid enough guy.”
“Seems. But he is not. I have reason to believe he is not a true believer in our cause.”
“What evidence?”
Max threw a folder across the desk. Terry picked it up and opened it. He began to leaf through photographs of Joe with Vaneida. Having coffee, having dinner, outside her office building, entering his apartment building.
“I thought she was a dyke,” Terry said.
Max closed his eyes at this, as if deeply shocked.
“You know I don’t like that kind of language.”
“Sorry, boss. But she is not… she’s…”
“Exactly,” Max said. “Which makes this maybe worse. I think he has been recruited over to her side.”
“Why would he?”
“He was pretty tight with the Kurds.”
“The Kurds. Good fighters.”
“When the President decided to pull our people out of that conflict, to bring our people home because the real fight was at home, I think Joe was shocked. He was very tight with this Kurdish leader.”
He tossed another photograph of Joe in Iraqi Kurdistan with a Pesh Merga general across the desk.
“So, he was pissed… uh, ticked off, when we changed course,” Terry said.
“Joe seems to be easily swayed,” Max said. “But there’s something else.”
He opened an audio file on his computer and hit “play.” They listened as Joe’s voice could be heard.
“…As far as I’m concerned, out of this whole group, you’re the only one that’s worth the bullet.”
Terry looked at Max. “When is this from?”
“My ranch. The training exercise. Keep listening.”
“…None of these assholes are even worth the effort to fire a bullet, only you are.”
“Whoa,” Terry said.
“…Between you and me, and don’t tell anyone I said this, I think Ban is an asshole. And so are most of these Ban wannabes. Nothing good can come of this. So, if you value my advice at all, I would tell you, walk away from this whole thing and don’t look back.”
Max turned off the playback.
“So.”
“He’s not entirely wrong about Ban,” Terry said.
“Ban is a self-limiting phenomenon. The President got him off that other charge, but I think Ban has finally done something that will keep him out of our hair, eliminate him for a while as a threat to us. But forget about Ban. Joe here seems to be less than convinced as to our greater cause.”
“True.”
“Which makes him dangerous.”
“So, what do you want to do about this?”
“I have a larger plan in mind, and as part of it, I think we can take care of Joe here.”
“A larger plan?”
“Yes. Can I trust you?”
“Hell, I owe you. You got my case up to the President. Without you I’d be in Leavenworth. Or worse.”
“But can I trust you with mission-critical information that may impact the restoration of this nation to the principles of its birth in revolution and martial valor?”
Terry stared at him.
“Sure,” he said.
“You believe that we military men are the natural leaders of this nation, do you not?”
“Uh… yeah,” said Terry. “Absolutely.”
“George Washington was the natural and undisputed leader of this nation, the father of his country. Since then, we have gotten farther and farther from that ideal. The bottom, of course, was the last two Democrat presidents, neither of whom served, both of whom radiated hostility toward our sacred military. But even the last two Republicans have failed to live up to the lofty standard set by General Washington. One served in a Guard unit, rather than in combat in Vietnam. And even this current President, who has done so much for our cause, never served at all, much less active duty, still less in combat. He has been a blunt instrument for our ends, as Ban says. But he cannot fill the role that Washington created. And he seems to have been…lessened by his illness.”
Terry was listening with rapt attention.
“Terry, I helped get you out of that mess over the haji prisoner because it was a blatant injustice. But I also saw you as a man I could trust, to whom I could entrust a great mission, a mission on the outcome of which, perhaps, the fate of our entire nation might rest. This President has done us great service. But though he has brought us to the mountaintop, he is not the one to lead us into the promised land.”
“Who is?”
Max smiled.
“Again, can I trust you to be discreet?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Okay. You’ve got a key role. Keep this closely held.”
“You got it. What’s the plan?”
“There is a girl involved.”
“Interesting.”
“Your wife, she understands that sometimes duty demands that we have to make sacrifices?”
“She’s a team player.”
“All right. I need you to make contact with a female person of interest. You need to get with our ‘Antifa’ friend Sal. You two can work out who makes the play, how to run it. Here are the details.”
“What about Joe?”
“I happen to know that Joe is going to be out of town for a little bit.”
© 2020 Nolan O’Brian