Lethal Trajectories (17 page)

Clayton greeted him at the door. “Jack, thanks so much for coming on short notice.”

“No problem,” said Jack, “I’m glad to be here. Is everything okay with Maggie and the kids?”

“They’re just fine. They’re still out at Maggie’s mother’s place, but they’ll be returning later this evening. I’ve been batching it, but that’s good because I’m spending most of my time at the office anyway. It’s been a real zoo.”

The two brothers walked down the hallway to Clayton’s private office, where Jack was pleased to see a blazing fire and a continental breakfast laid out on one of the tables. Clayton was clearly prepared for more than just a brotherly chat.

“I don’t mind telling you, Clayton, that I didn’t like the sound of your voice last night. Whatever is bothering you, it’s bothering me too, even though I don’t know what it is.” He reached over for some orange juice and toast.

“Sorry for the cryptic call, but I was blown away by something I need to talk to you about, and I think you’ll understand once I tell you. This is super-confidential stuff.”

“Geez, Clayton, you’re really starting to spook me. What’s going on?”

“Last night, I met with President Burkmeister in his private quarters. He’s a dying man, Jack. He has terminal cancer and no more than three months or so to live.”

Clayton sipped his coffee, giving Jack a much-needed moment to process the news before continuing.

“He has a highly aggressive form of pancreatic cancer, and he plans to resign the presidency on or before November first, depending on his health.

“I don’t know what to say,” Jack responded, shaking his head. “What’s going to happen now?”

“He plans to make a prime-time statement to the nation from the Oval Office on Monday night,” Clayton said. Jack nodded absently, struggling to fathom what this would mean to Clayton and his family.

“I’ll be meeting with President Burkmeister tomorrow morning to plan out as much as we can on short notice, and I’ll know more about the logistics then. As you can imagine, there are millions of things to work out, and
we
don’t have the luxury of a long timeframe.”

We?
Jack decided to let that go for now.

“The president suggested I do two things fairly quickly. The first is to select my White House chief of staff—someone to work hand-in-glove with me—and the second is to consider who I want to replace me as vice president. I’ve decided on the former, and I have a short list of people I would consider for the vice presidency.” Clayton looked at him, and Jack knew in a flash what was coming next.

“Jack, I know this is totally unfair, and something I shouldn’t ask, but I’m going to ask it anyway: will you be my chief of staff? The hours are long and the pay is poor, and those are the good parts, but I need you like I’ve never needed anyone before.”

“Clayton,” Jack said, grappling for the right words, “I’m overwhelmed. First, out of the blue, I find out that a man I greatly admire is going to die. Second, I realize that my big brother is about to become the new president. And last, I find myself being asked to accompany him on this journey. Honestly, I just don’t know what to say. It is all so surreal—like some hokey script from a soap opera.”

“Of course. I’m also shocked by the news. It’s happening so fast that I keep expecting to wake up from this dream—or nightmare—soon. But this is for real, Jack, and I’ve got to say there’s no one on Earth I trust more than you. Not just because you’re my brother, but also because I haven’t met a man yet who could carry your jock on anything you set your mind on doing. Perhaps, if I had months to find someone, I could; but how do you match the trust and respect we have as brothers and friends? I could never find that.”

“Wouldn’t it be a major political problem for you, Clayton? You know the ‘McCarty Gang riding roughshod over all of Washington’ sort of thing? Imagine the field day a jerk like Wellington Crane would have with this. He’ll surely portray us as the reincarnation of the Jesse James gang. Besides, isn’t George Gleason the incumbent chief of staff?”

“The president advised me that George would be leaving with him, so that’s not a problem. No doubt the political hacks will have a field day with it, but as I recall, the Kennedy brothers survived the storm. In many respects it strengthened the Kennedy administration, because Bobby wasn’t afraid to tell Jack behind closed doors that he was full of crap. Believe me, after watching the way people fawn all over the president and tell him what they think he wants to hear, the president needs someone like Bobby to tell it like it is. And, as far as I can remember, you’ve never had a problem disagreeing with me in the strongest possible terms when you thought I was wrong.”

Jack smiled and said, “You’re right about that. But you may be dead wrong in thinking that what I’d bring to the table would outweigh the negative spin you’ll get from the media.”

“C’mon, Jack, when have either of us shied away from a fight? You were my campaign manager when we went up against both major parties to win the election in California. We had bullets flying at us from all directions then, remember? Being an Independent could actually be a huge advantage this time because
we
won’t be beholden to any party, and we’ll have a real opportunity to address the pressing energy and climate-change issues we both feel so passionate about. Aside from all that, there’s no one I’d rather have in my foxhole than you.”

Jack smiled and thought,
Clayton sure knows how to push all the right buttons.
Still, he had his employees to consider. “I’ve got a business to run, Clayton, and it wouldn’t be easy to just drop everything. You’d need me right away, but I don’t know if I could disengage that quickly.”

“I hear you, Jack, but I’ve met your people, and they’re totally capable of running IEE in your absence. I also know how the Washington game is played, and I doubt very seriously that any of your major clients would want to drop your firm because its owner is now working directly with the president of the United States.”

Clayton must have guessed that Jack’s resistance was wearing down. “Jack,” Clayton said, almost pleading, “I need you. It’s almost impossible for me to imagine doing this without you at my side. There’d be a few logistical challenges in the early stages of the transition, I’m sure, but nothing we couldn’t work out together.”

Jack sighed, relenting. “Clayton, you smoothie, you, I always did have a hard time resisting you when you pulled a full-court press on me. I’ll agree to your offer on one condition.”

“What’s that?” asked Clayton, concern evident in his voice.

“That I don’t have to call you ‘Mr. President’ when no one else is around.”

“That certainly won’t be necessary, Jack. When we’re alone, you can just refer to me as ‘Your Royal Highness.'” Clayton poked Jack’s arm and put up his dukes for the fight.

Jack laughed and said, “Before we start, I should tell you that I got a call last night from Wang Peng. I returned his call, and he told me he was leaving for New York to work with the Chinese delegation at the United Nations on the Chunxiao matter. He asked if I’d be interested in having dinner with him in New York on Wednesday evening, and I agreed.” He could see Clayton digesting the question as he continued.

“This could be one of the great historical ironies of all times. Think about it, Clayton, what are the odds that two close friends would end up reporting directly to the two most powerful people in the world? Absolutely astonishing; and I’m sure Peng will feel the same once he finds out about our situation.”

“That is incredible, Jack. There could be some good opportunities here. Last week, when the president briefed us on his call with Chairman Lin Cheng, we were all impressed by China’s calm, reasoned approach compared to Japan’s more militant response. I thought right then that Wang Peng had something to do with it. Frankly, I’ve always felt we’d be better served by finding collaborative and not confrontational approaches with China, and this may provide an opportunity to kick-start the process.”

Clayton looked like he was warming to the idea. “I remember the old days at Stanford when we’d get together with Peng and solve all the world’s problems over a few beers,” he reflected. “Now we might actually have a chance to do something real about them.”

Jack nodded and said, “Well, the whole ballgame will change after President Burkmeister goes public with his news on Monday night. I’m wondering if I should meet with Peng given the new set of circumstances.” It was a question more than a comment and Clayton responded.

“I’m not sure how it’ll all play out, but let’s keep things the way they are for now and
not
make a decision until we have to. My gut tells me to do whatever we can to maintain our relationship with Peng for diplomatic and friendship reasons. It seems like the right thing to do.”

With Jack onboard and fully engaged, the two brothers spent the next few hours talking, arguing, and deliberating over their next steps. In the back of his head, Jack realized it was not so different from the meticulous planning process they had shared as kids when they built a go-kart or completed a science project together. But now there were well over seven billion reasons—one for every person on the planet—why they had to get it right the first time.

H
ugo Bromfield loved Sunday mornings. Sitting in his Georgetown condo, he eagerly devoured every news show he could and systematically prioritized the issues on which his boss needed to focus on in the following week. His living room was a miniature news center with demographic maps, sophisticated software, and a long table on which to plan out his weekly machinations. It was an extension of his personality; for him there was no higher calling than politics and power—with emphasis on the latter.

Today’s shows held no surprises. The media’s obsession with the president’s health, Chunxiao, rising oil prices, and a plunging stock market continued, and there were many opportunities for his boss to make hay. He jotted down a few bullet points on each that even Collingsworth could grasp, as he relished the opportunities emerging before his eyes.

This morning, though, his mind drifted back to the incredible day he had yesterday at Wellington’s World.

Their visit had exceeded anything he could have imagined. Wellington Crane met them at his private airstrip as his Gulfstream G-650 long-range jet taxied up to the tarmac, and he personally drove them to his estate in his vintage 1998 Rolls-Royce. He gave them a guided tour of Wellington’s World—a place many had heard about but few had seen—and Hugo was absolutely thrilled to visit his studio and war room. The contrasts between Crane’s center for assimilating fast-breaking world news and his own sent shivers down his spine. There were signed pictures from the rich and famous and artifacts galore from Crane’s world travels. Everything there testified to the greatness of Wellington Crane, which was, of course, the intended effect.

Crane saved the best for last. Shortly after they finished the most delicious lobster lunch Hugo had ever eaten, in a shaded veranda overlooking a scenic copse with a fountain, Wellington had finished his third glass of rare wine and reached for a box of Havana cigars—the best money could buy. After offering them their choice of cigars and then clipping and lighting his own, he’d said, “Gentlemen, there’s something I’d really like you to see. Won’t you follow me, please, to my media room?”

After making themselves comfortable in the room’s plush stadium seating, Wellington announced, “Senator, Hugo, what I am about to show you is a little promo piece I put together on the Save America tour we’ll launch later this month. I hope it wasn’t too presumptuous of me, Senator, to include you in the piece, but after you agreed yesterday to become part of this effort, I had the boys in the studio rework it to feature you.”

The “little” promo piece that Wellington presented on the wall-sized screen in Dolby surround-sound was an extravaganza that matched anything Hollywood could offer.

It started with breathtaking panoramas of the most beautiful scenic areas in America, perfectly choreographed with the deep baritone voice of Wellington Crane against patriotic background music. It then transitioned into images of great American moments including victory in World War II, the moon landing, and the defeat of the Soviet Union in the Cold War, with dramatic footage of the Berlin Wall being torn down. Hugo was enthralled with Wellington’s commentary: “…
it all came with a price tag and obligation. We shed our blood for the values set forth in the Pax-Americana philosophy, and we must not be ashamed to stand against alien doctrines, the welfare state, un-American activities, and the liberal dogma subverting our true American values.”

The next part, honoring great American leaders, was even better, Hugo thought. To his great delight, his boss followed the batting order of Abe Lincoln, Teddy Roosevelt, and Ronald Reagan; Collingsworth was featured on the steps of the Capitol in rolled-up sleeves, talking to high school students.
“We are blessed to have a man like Senator Tom Collingsworth picking up the mantle of leadership and fighting for the true American values manifested in the Pax-Americana philosophy,”
Crane pontificated as the U.S. Naval Choir hummed “America the Beautiful” in the background.

Looking over at his boss, Hugo could see Collinsworth wiping his teary eyes.

After setting the stage with patriotic nostalgia, the documentary completed the trifecta by contrasting the bumbling efforts of the BM administration with the results that the Pax-Americana philosophy could have generated. Crane commented in voice-over,
“We’ve caved in to communist China, deserted our loyal allies, forgotten our manifest destiny to oversee the well-being of the world, and squandered opportunities and resources. We’ve allowed foreigners to take American jobs, rob us of our time, talent, and treasury and subvert the American way of life. We’ve catered to masses of American workers too lazy to work, and we’ve allowed alien doctrine, religions, and liberal dogma to corrupt all that is good in America. It’s time to stand up and take back the country we love.”