Uncivil Liberties (10 page)

“How so?” Snow queried.

Steadman smiled broadly, reaching to retrieve his coffee cup from the side table. “Despite what your party hacks are going to claim to the contrary, you have absolutely no obligation to honor
any
political deals Cumberland made. All bets are off. They died with that poor unfortunate soul at the end of his three-hour presidency. You owe ‘nothing to nobody,’ as the saying goes. You can make your own cabinet nominations without fear or favor to those who supported Cumberland, and you can set the agenda for your first, and perhaps your
only,
term.” He chuckled. “In short, Bill, you’ve come to this office without baggage—without owing an arm and a leg to everyone who claims he brought you his county, his state, or a bag of electoral votes. That in itself is rare, practically unheard of in this day and age. But,” the former president said, “if you have any thoughts of a second term, they’ll hold you over the barrel and demand you support their favorite nominees, programs, or hare-brained ideas.”

Snow leaned back into the soft, yet firm cushions of his chair, crossing his legs and pursing his lips. “I’d certainly anger all those in my own party who made the promises, those who paid the bill for Cumberland’s—and my—election.”

“True. But at what price? Four years with a management team someone else chose, some of whom will be inclined to repeatedly remind you that whatever you want to do, it was
not
what President Cumberland would have done. Or would you prefer freedom to do what you think is right? What—in your own opinion—the country needs? With a top-level team of your own choosing? To be perhaps the first president to ever come in here with a clean slate and no human debt? It’s not only the economy, security and general national issues—you’ve  got this dammed secession issue to consider. What will you do about California? Cumberland voiced his determination to take any and all measures necessary to put a halt to it. Personally, Bill, I think military intervention would be the worst thing you could do.”

Snow remained silent, a slight smile played across his lips as he listened to the highly popular former president, a man who had left office after eight years still possessed of a sixty-three percent favorable poll rating. Steadman sipped on his coffee and watched the younger man.

“You’ve thought all this through, haven’t you, you desert fox?” Steadman asked, using the term the Arizona press had coined when Bill Snow had—against all odds—run for governor and won.

“Choosing my own team has certainly crossed my mind, Josh, but I haven’t made any firm decisions yet. I’m also not certain how to handle California. In some respects, we’d lose a lot of problems if we just let them go. Let them fend for themselves. At last look, they were bankrupt. We either need to let them go it their own way, or bail them out.”

“That’s true, but don’t underestimate the precedent. We might end up with two nations between the Atlantic and the Pacific. I’ve heard rumblings from some western colleagues.”

Snow nodded. “So have I, but let’s get back to cabinet appointments and my immediate problems. California can wait until next week.” He laughed. “I’m not anxious to get crossways with my own party, but the thought of a clean slate, choosing my own cabinet, is enticing. Other vice presidents who took over from their president did so well into their terms of office and had to show at least  a semblance of completing the guys’ work. I don’t see it that way in this case. Cumberland made campaign promises, but had no initiatives started yet. There truly is an opportunity to put the right people in the right places—
my
people—regardless of the clamor it would raise among your party or mine. Of course, there are  the Senate confirmation hearings to consider, and the Republicans are still in the minority where I need the votes. And the first consideration is a vice president.”

Steadman nodded in agreement. “In light of the events that have transpired, if you move quickly, decisively, the American people will support you and the Senate won’t have the ability to deny confirmation of your nominees. Even the press will take up your cause, loving that ‘in-your-face’ attitude it will throw at  Congress.”

“You
really
believe that, Josh?” Snow asked, his interest suddenly heightened.

“I’d work with you to see that it happened. You have my word on it.”

“A truly bi-partisan effort, you mean?”

“Oh, no,” he said, placing his coffee cup back on the saucer. “I’d have to be completely covert. Totally behind the scenes to try to convince some of my party that it would be a good time to get political hacks and lobbyists out of the executive recruitment business, putting their lackeys in office, then coming to them for favors. And I could support you in the media, with the obligatory cautionary statements to distance myself, of course,” he said, a small laugh following. “Remember, I
am
a South Carolina Baptist.” He laughed even louder. “I can’t be openly seen to be supporting an Arizona Catholic. Goodness gracious, how would all those fire and brimstone televangelists raise money if Christian religions starting
agreeing
with each other, admitting they weren’t the
only
ones who spoke for God?”

“You mean Jesus
isn’t
a Republican?” Snow said, joining Steadman in laughter. Turning serious, the new president leaned forward. “Josh, I’ll probably be in touch with you again on California, but for today, you came prepared to offer sage advice, right? Who you would recommend for the half-dozen key jobs? Vice president, for instance?”

“I have a few thoughts,” Steadman replied, “but I’d rather hear yours. I was sincere when I said this is
your
opportunity, not mine, for another go around. I served my time in that chair.” He  nodded toward the chocolate-brown leather executive chair positioned behind the mahogany desk that once sustained Andrew Jackson’s presidency.

Snow rose from his seat and stepped over to the desk, retrieving a leather folder and walking back. He stood behind his chair for a moment, leafing through several papers in the folder. “Most of Cumberland’s selectees,” he said, waving the documents, “have already been through this office or on the phone, subtly and not so subtly trying to remind me of the promises made and of their willingness and capability to serve.”

“I’m sure they have,” Steadman replied, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Some of them are good men and good women, Josh. Good choices.”

“Well, then
nominate
them. But make sure they’re
your
choice as well as Cumberland’s. Even then, remember that they will be inclined to remind you that when Cumberland offered them the job, he
‘. . . gave them to understand, this and that . . .’”

President Snow nodded his agreement. “And as for the vice president, I really haven’t had a good thought about it. No name has jumped to the surface.” He paused, looking at his folder. “Hank Tiarks is a really good man, Josh,” he  commented, again leafing through the papers. “But I think due to their friendship and level of trust, Cumberland wanted him in Homeland Security because he felt domestic security was going to be a real problem as these terrorist threats continue. I actually think that Cumberland wanted Tiarks as his vice president, but our party forced him to select me.”

“That could be, Bill, but don’t let it deter you from choosing someone you want. Are you thinking of Tiarks for VP?”

“Maybe. He’s well respected. Cumberland mentioned to me that he thought Tiarks would stand up to the heads of the various intelligence agencies. But I think his talents lie elsewhere. Law enforcement or direct action planning are not his strengths, at least as I see it.”

“What
is
his strength,” Steadman asked, “in your opinion?”

“Possibly VP, or Secretary of State. Perhaps even the United Nations. He’s well thought of abroad.”

“I agree. He could fill either of those slots. See, you’re on the right track already. And Homeland Security? Cumberland was right, you know. You’ll need someone you can trust who has exceptional judgment and the courage to implement his decisions. Someone who’s not beholden to the political world and not afraid of ruffling feathers in the intelligence community. It will take a tough individual,  one who’s not constantly looking for his next higher office. Also, someone who isn’t inclined to push for military intervention in California. Someone familiar with the problem out there.”

“I don’t know about Homeland Security yet,” Snow said, flipping through a few more pages, “but I do know it will be at the forefront of a lot of action and public reaction, good
and
bad. I’m inclined to stick with Collins for SecDef. He’s come out publicly against military intervention in California, and he served well as Secretary of the Army under Eastman during his first term. Besides California, we anticipate much more domestic terrorism this decade. This is a long war, Josh. If history serves, it may even outlast the European Thirty Years’ War, or, heaven forbid, the Hundred Years’ War. It started during your term, Josh, but most attacks were abroad in those years. It’s a lot different now, even in the short time you’ve been out of office.”

“Well,” Steadman replied, rising from his seat and placing his coffee cup back on the table, “since you asked for my advice, let me tell you a bit about someone who is currently hidden away. Someone I came to trust explicitly. Someone who doesn’t give a hoot about higher political office.”

A quizzical look appeared on President Snow’s face. “Someone from Washington whom you
trusted
?”

Steadman laughed. “He’s not from Washington. Far from it, but he’s served his country in peace and in war, including the Washington wars, for nearly forty years.”

“You’ve got my attention,” Snow said, beginning to rise to the game.

The former president walked toward the small table in the corner of the room, a silver coffee service in place on its polished surface. “Let me refill my coffee cup and I’ll give you a couple of thoughts. Would you like a refill?”

Lieutenant General William Austin, USAF, Ret., and Brigadier General Pádraig Connor, USMC, were escorted into the Oval Office by Dixie, the president’s temporary secretary. President William Snow came out from behind his desk and greeted both men, smiling broadly.

“It’s been a long time, Pug,” the president said. “When I heard you were part of the president’s extended staff, I was surprised and quite pleased. How are your parents?”

“Very well, Mr. President.”

“General Austin,” the president said, turning his attention to Austin. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He offered his hand.  “Please, gentlemen, take a seat. General Austin, can I assume that General Connor has explained our distant family relationship?”

“Yes, Mr. President. When Pug… uh, General Connor called to advise me that you had requested my attendance this morning, he discussed your former relationship. I also understand his older brother is your son-in-law.”

“That’s correct. And has he explained our other former connection?”

“Sir, General Connor has also advised that you were partners in a law firm with his father. He casually mentioned that you taught him to play golf as well.”

The president laughed. “Too well, I’m afraid. I wouldn’t stand a chance against him, should we tee it up again. So, now that the familiarities are completed, I’m the one who needs to be brought up to speed. Pug, as my secretary mentioned yesterday, the purpose for this impromptu meeting was to brief me on your current position and the confidential task force you head. Can you succinctly describe the function of your office—what’s  it called? The Office of Information and Public Relations? What does that office do for Homeland Security?”

Pug hesitated momentarily, a pensive look crossing his face. “Well, Mr. President, we
don’t
do public relations.”

President Snow smiled back at his former law partner’s son. “I surmised as much, General Connor. And I confess to a short briefing—yesterday morning, actually—from President Steadman. He said President Prescott had called him to discuss her intention to create your task force and wanted his opinion. He supported her intentions. I have no knowledge of where President Cumberland stood on the issue.”

“I see, sir. Then you understand that President Prescott organized our office under the Homeland Security Department specifically to give her direct control over a quick reaction, military think tank. She wanted a closer relationship to planning as it pertains to rapidly developing terrorist activity, primarily domestic terrorism. She had concluded—during her vice presidency—that it would only grow more intrusive within the U.S. homeland. As she  explained it to me, she wanted opinions and suggestions outside the Pentagon chain of command. Actually, we’re a slightly different kind of think tank, Mr. President. Each of our officers—and, sir, we actually have a very small full-time staff, eight people, to be exact—has come directly from command of a branch of special forces and has had direct field action experience.”

President Snow nodded. “Would that include you, Pug?”

“Yes, Mr. President.”

“Didn’t you also head a task force for President Eastman regarding the California secession movement? Something about election fraud and militia activity?”

“Yes, sir. I’ve prepared a full, written after-action report for you on that subject when you feel ready to review it. The secession issue is still very much alive, Mr. President, although we’ve curtailed the election fraud process. As it stands, California still intends to divide into multiple states, but they haven’t rescinded their electoral decision to secede and form their own nation. In fact, as I understand my latest briefing from FBI Director Granata, the movement is actually growing stronger.”