President's Girlfriend 07 - What He Did for Love (13 page)

Dutch laughed heartily.  Then Dutch reached into his desk drawer, pulled out his written resignation, and stood up.  He walked around his desk and handed it to Birdie Camp.

“I believe this is yours,” Dutch said with great relief.

Birdie accepted the letter.  “Yes, I’ll take that now.  And go out before the cameras and admit that I’m an abject failure.”

Dutch smiled.  “Oh, it’s not so bad, Birdie.”

“It’s horrible, are you kidding?  The American people were counting on me to get you to change your mind.  And I didn’t come close.”

“They’ll get over it, trust me,” Dutch said like the experienced politician he was. 

“If you say so,” Birdie said as he and Dutch began walking toward the exit. 

Dutch had his hand on Birdie’s shoulder.  “I say so,” he said.  “All of us aren’t pure as you, Bird.  Some of us have pasts we wished we didn’t have, but we do.”  Then suddenly, as if gripped, that same queasy feeling came over Dutch.  And a different day flashed through his mind.  The day when he had that same queasy feeling, and paid it no attention.  The day Gina entered that booby-trapped house and nearly died. 

His heart pounded in fear.

But before he could react at all, a succession of events left he and Birdie both reeling.  First, the direct line to the Oval Office that was installed in his office a month ago began ringing.  Then Birdie’s cell phone began ringing.  As Birdie pulled out his cell phone to answer it, and as Dutch hurried to answer his desk phone, Christian ran through the office door, a look of terror on his face, and raced past both men and hurried to the television set.  Then the Secret Service Agent-in-charge ran through the side door, with a contingent of agents following suit. 

Birdie answered his cell phone, but Dutch stopped in his tracks.  “What is it?” he asked.  “What’s happened?”

Christian pressed the television’s remote control and as soon as the TV came on, Dutch saw destroyed buildings that looked like the aftermath of war zones.  People were running and screaming, fire and smoke were still billowing, and the captions identified those war zones, not as places on some far away soil, but as actual cities inside the United States. 

Dutch’s heart dropped through his shoe.

The flustered anchorman on television was grabbing paper after paper from an off-camera aide, and was updating his report with each new paper he received. 

“Confirmed in Abilene, Texas,” the anchorman said.  “And another one in Wichita, Kansas.  And yet another, ladies and gentleman, in Butte, Montana.”  He began to count the list of reported attacks.  “That brings the total reported explosions to ten, thirteen, now eighteen, ladies and gentlemen.”

“Explosions?” Dutch asked, staring at the television screen.

“From one end of this country to the other end, sir,” the Agent-in-charge replied.  “At first it seemed random, like one and then two.  But not anymore, sir.  This is orchestrated.”

The anchorman received yet another paper containing yet another update.  “Peritop, Oregon is now reporting an explosion at one of their chemical plants.”

Then Dutch felt that odd sense of dread again.  He headed behind his desk to answer his still-ringing phone.  He looked at Christian.  “Get my wife,” he ordered.

“Your wife?” Christian asked, perplexed.  “But she’s not here, sir.”

Dutch stopped in his tracks and looked at Christian.  “What do you mean she’s not here?” Panic began to surge within him.  “She already left?”

“Yes, sir.  Her car is just pulling off.”

Without a second’s hesitation, Dutch took off running, prompting the Secret Service agent-in-charge to take off behind him, and some of the additional agents to follow suit.

“Get Little Walt!” Dutch screamed to Christian as he ran for the door.  “And don’t let him out of your sight!”

Christian, along with two Secret Service agents, immediately hurried to do just that.

Two agents remained in the office, as protection for the Speaker of the House, and Birdie, still on his cell phone, ordered one of the agents to answer the still-ringing desk phone.

Dutch and the agents ran through the office, through the house, and out of the front door.  The SUV carrying Gina was nearing the electronic gate, which would place it one step away from a clean getaway.  Dutch ran across the grounds screaming Gina’s name.  Other agents ran toward the president, unsure what was going on. 

The agent-in-charge had his hand to his wrist.  “Stop Eagle!” he was yelling as he ran.  “Stop Eagle!  Stop Eagle!  Stop Eagle!”

And the SUV came to a screeching halt so sudden that its tail end almost jackknifed.  But Dutch kept running, hard as he could run, until he was opening the backseat of that truck’s door, and he saw Gina’s face for himself.

He slumped against the vehicle, in pure exhaustion.

Gina, terrified, was attempting to get out.  “Dutch, what’s wrong?” she asked him.  “Our son okay?”

But the agent-in-charge arrived and pushed both the president and First Lady back into the vehicle.  And he got in, too.

“Turn it around!” he ordered the driver/agent.

“What’s happening?” Gina asked hysterically.

The additional agents had their weapons drawn as they ran beside the SUV, looking around as if they were suddenly in a war zone themselves.  They escorted the SUV back up to the main house. 

Dutch, in the backseat, put his arm around Gina.  His heart was still racing.

But Gina wanted answers.  “What’s happened?” she asked him.  “Dutch, what’s going on?”

But she wanted answers he couldn’t give.  “We don’t know yet,” he said, pulling her closer.  “We don’t know.”

By the time Dutch had secured Gina and Little Walt in the home’s living room, with Christian and a contingent of Secret Service agents with them, he returned to his office where Birdie had been fielding calls.  He was then told by Birdie that the explosion had increased from eighteen to forty-one.  All small cities.  All at state or federal government buildings.  And his estate was not only protected with agents below, but with air support above.  The United States were considering the bombings as an act of war.

Dutch and Birdie were on a conference call with Crader, the Secretary of Defense, the Secretary of State, and the Director of the CIA.   The SecDef and the SecState were certain it was not Al-Qaeda.  The Director wasn’t so sure. 

“We’re still checking with our sources,” he informed the president.  “We’re not prepared to rule any group in or out.”

After more back and forth, more theories and counter-theories, Dutch ended the call.  Birdie was sitting behind the desk, and Dutch sat in front of it.  His thoughts were all over the place, but he knew the writing was on the wall.

Birdie stood up, walked around the desk, and stood in front of Dutch.  Behind him was the television set, on mute, showing all of the carnage, the panic, the pain and suffering throughout the contiguous United States. 

“The country needs reassurance, Dutch,” Birdie said.  “They need a calming influence.  They need a known quantity, a leader they know and can trust.” 

Birdie reached into his coat pocket and pulled out Dutch’s resignation letter.  “This is that cold day, Mr. President,” Birdie said.

But Dutch was already beyond that issue.  His resignation would go into effect, but he already knew it couldn’t possibly go into effect at a time like this.  Because if he knew anything, he knew that the timing of these successive bombings didn’t occur by happenstance.  The attacks were undoubtedly planned months in advance.  All they were waiting for, like most cowardly terrorists, was the absolute best time to attack.  When word came down that the President of the United States was resigning, and it would all be official after his meeting with the Speaker, they timed their attacks to coincide with that meeting.  Whoever decided to attack the United States of America did so at what Dutch was certain was their optimal time.  So Dutch had no illusions about what he had to do.

But convincing Gina of what he had to do was another matter entirely.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Gina sat alone in the library, in one of the two wingback chairs she and Dutch often sat on and talked for hours. It started during her recovery.  Dutch would often bring her into this room and they would relax.  It was always their peaceful place.

Until now.

Something was wrong in the country and there was nothing peaceful about it.

While Christian, and the Secret Service, oversaw Little Walt in the front of the house, Dutch had asked Gina to go into the library and wait for him there.  He had to field yet another call and then would join her. 

That was nearly half an hour ago.  Now he was coming through the door.

Gina looked up as he closed the door.  And she could see the change in him already.  Gone was that vibrant, happy Dutch who just hours before had been joking with her about sweat.  Now was the serious Dutch, a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders again, and a man who had nothing to joke about. 

Her heart melted.

He grabbed the second chair and sat it in front of Gina.  Then he sat down and crossed his legs. 

“Sorry it took so long,” he said to her.

“Tell me what’s happening, Dutch?  What is this all about?  Is it Al-Qaeda?”

“We don’t know yet.”

“They said they were determined to strike in the U.S. again.  Is that what’s going on?”

“CIA isn’t ready to rule it out, but we can’t rule it in, either, at this point.  We just don’t know.”

Gina’s face took on that earnest look Dutch always saw when she was disturbed.  “How many people have died?” she asked him.

A thump of pain flicked through Dutch’s body.  “Eight hundred so far,” he said.

Gina’s already disturbed face took on a look of grave concern.  “Oh, Dutch,” she said heartfelt.  “All of those people!”

“It was carefully choreographed.  They struck in small town America, where there wasn’t the kind of surveillance the big cities enjoy, and they struck with what we believe were pre-set explosions.”

“And no-one’s claiming credit?”

“Not yet.  But that’s why,” Dutch said as he uncrossed his legs, leaned forward, and took Gina’s hand in his hand, “I need you to understand.”

Gina stared at him.  “Understand what?”

This was one of the hardest things he would ever have to say to Gina, and it broke his heart that he had to say it.  But he had to.  “I need you to understand that I can’t resign right now.”

Gina’s heart began to pound.  “What do you mean?”

“I have to calm a terrified nation, Gina.  They don’t know if this is a one-day event, an everyday event, or if more explosions will rock their world this very day.  There’s panic out there.”

“I understand that,” Gina insisted, “but Crader’s in charge.  Crader can calm the nation.”

“No, he can’t.”

“Yes, he can, Dutch!  You made him your vice president because you believed he could run this nation.  You decided to resign because you believed the country would be in good hands with Crader.  Why can’t he do his job and handle this?  Why does it always have to fall on you?”

“It’s not always me.”

“Yes, it is!” Gina said firmly.  “I’m not taking that back.  You’re their knight in shining armor who always runs to their rescue.  And Walt and I have to get caught up in those rescues.”

“I know that, Gina.”

“When we got married you were already president.  I know that.  And I know what I was getting myself into.  But I didn’t put any pressure on you.  You were the one who said you wanted to resign.  You were the one who said Walt and I would never again have to so much as visit Washington.  You said that.”  Tears were in her eyes.  “And I believed you.”

Dutch looked at her tear-stained eyes.  And his heart ached even more.  “What do you want from me, Gina?”

“I want you to give up the armor.  Give it to Crader.  Let him be their knight.  Let him be the hero.”

“This isn’t about being any
got
damn hero!” Dutch said furiously as he stood from his seat, his hands balled into fists of tension.  “This country is at war with an enemy we don’t even know.  There is no way in hell I can resign right now!”

Gina watched as Dutch began to pace the room.  She hated putting him through this, but going back to Washington wasn’t an option for her anymore.

“You can counsel Crader behind the scenes,” she said, “and advise him.”

“That won’t work.”

“It will work if you’ll try it!  I have confidence in Crader.”

“I have confidence in him, too.  But he can’t calm the nation, Gina.  They don’t know him like that.  He’s never been in this kind of position.  I have to let them know that in this strange new world they’re experiencing today that there is still some consistency.  Only I can do that.  They know me.  They trust me.” 

Dutch never tooted his own horn, but he knew he had to pull out all the stops to convince Gina.  “It won’t be forever,” he continued.  “It’ll only be until the country can get a better handle on what’s going on.  Until the panic subsides.  Then we’ll return home.”

Gina’s heart slammed against her chest.  “Then
we’ll
return home?” she asked him.  “What are you talking about?  You expect Walt and me to go back to Washington with you?”

Dutch looked at her.  “Of course I expect it,” he said.  “I’m not leaving my family behind.  Where I go, you and Walt go.”

But Gina was already shaking her head.  Dutch hurried to her side.  He sat in the chair in front of her, leaned forward, and took her hands again.  “We go as a unit, Gina.  We have to.”

“No,” Gina said.  “I can’t.”

Dutch gripped her hands.  “You can.”

But she was still shaking her head, and looking around, seeking reason.  “I can’t go back there,” she said.  “I can’t relive that, Dutch. I can’t----”

Dutch saw the panic began to surge in her.  “Gina, listen to me,” he said.  “It’s going to be okay.”

“No, it’s not!  It’s never okay when I go there.  You can’t ask that of me, Dutch, not after you told me I never had to go back.”

“Honey, this isn’t something that was planned.  You can do this.  I’ll be right there, Gina.  I’ll protect you.”