DAY ZERO SINCE THE MURDER OF THE PRESIDENT

 

                                                  Chapter 1

 

White House, Washington D.C.

The Director of the United States Secret Service didn’t want to make a big fuss out of it until he made sure everything was as the agent told him right outside the President’s room. He shot across the hallway, but then paced himself and started walking fast. “It’s impossible. That cannot be true”, he was thinking to himself while his subconscious was trying to figure out how his life would look like if it was indeed proved it was “possible”. If he had gotten this information somewhere else, he would have been sprinting right now and would already have all of the forces on field. He wouldn’t even have stopped for a minute.

But here? Here, he was not allowed to do anything that might interrupt the daily tasks and life of the personnel. Who would even think that something like that could happen right there, in the middle of the White House? What would he and his personnel have to do after such an event? Maybe he should issue some commands. But… all of that was highly unlikely. He wanted to see for himself, with his own eyes. To check the situation and assume control over it. That was the same reason why he personally responded to the ominous phone call that came through the command line.

Even though his subconscious was thinking about his future, he decided to be sensible and concluded that even if the given information was true, there are people who could worry about state security. But now, less damage would be done if he lost a minute or two in this investigation, rather than announcing so dreadful news.

The agent outside was visibly upset and as white as chalk. Disbelief, fear, confusion and tons of questions could be seen in his eyes. The hallway was deserted – the only advantage in a situation like that. No inquiring eyes and unnecessary witnesses.

Both of them felt their knees weaken. They were doubtful they could remain standing for long now.

The sight was shocking, nasty, and unbelievable. Something unreal. But at the same time, as desperate as it can be.

Was the blood unreal as well? Were they seeing something that wasn’t there?

The agent started talking, but he couldn’t listen. There was a buzzing in his ears. The President’s body slumped to the left. There was a stick supporting his body; the stick fell and his body fell into a weird position… it was unacceptable and undignified. He decided to move the dead body of the President and prop him up in a more respectful manner, even though he would be contaminating the crime scene. The agent mutely realized what he wanted to do, so he helped; he got hold of his legs and both of them laid the President down. After they put the body on the sofa, Robert Down decided to call the Deputy Assistant Director of the Office of Protective Operations. Before calling, he remembered to ask the nervous agent what he was saying.

“How did this happen?” he said. “Who did this?”

“President’s mistress” was his answer. “She has got to be around here somewhere. Issue an order for her arrest…” The agent was shaking due to tremendous stress.

When they laid hands on the dead body, it helped them grasp the situation, release part of the stress, face reality and gave the Director enough time to come up with a plan suitable for an unforeseen event like this.

He knew this was not a regular situation and that he would need all of his prudence, wit and determination. After all, he was the Director of the Secret Service. He took the position due to his set of skills. And he knew that that bitch was not going to get away with this.

He called the Deputy Assistant Director. He tried speaking soberly, with the voice of a man who’s in charge of a situation, even though his mind was racing. He announced that they should all be on the lookout for a blonde woman. That they “should all watch if they catch a sight of Elizabeth Tribe! Of course everyone knows Elizabeth Tribe, she’s the President’s mistress! People know her better than the President’s wife, for God’s sake! If someone sees her, she should be arrested and taken into the offices of the Secret Service. Everyone watch the exits! No one is allowed to leave the White House!”

“What’s going on?!” inquired Andrew Smart.

Heavy silence fell on the room for a minute. Both of them knew the weight of that silence, but the subordinate didn’t insist to hear the truth, because he trusted his boss.

“Something terr… very unpleasant. I’ll tell you later” said Robert Down and thus interrupted the silence that seemed like it lasted for ages. “See to the matter as soon as possible. And give me a call straight away.”

He knew that they would locate very easily the current position of Elizabeth Tribe with the help of the CCTV cameras. They would soon catch her. From one side, that gave him some comfort – that one part in the chain of actions that he needed to take would be successfully done. It was a part that was only his, a part connected to the safety of the President. But from the other side, as a person who in a small part represented the country, he had a picture of the series of events and consequences that would follow after this event. He knew what he was supposed to be doing in an event like this, when the President is “unexpectedly” dead. He didn’t even want to think about “assassinated”. There was a standard protocol in place. But this was an unusual assassination. This was more than that. This was an attack on the nation, on its dignity and pride. An unusual situation demands an unusual solution and procedure. That was what he was thinking. He forgot that it’s possible that he might be held responsible for neglecting the rules. But he was not thinking clearly. He knew that state authorities, before taking any security, diplomatic, or political activities, need to form an opinion about the “event”. They needed to show the murder of the President in a manner that would enable the country to stay dignified. The President must serve his country, even when he is no longer alive… He wanted to personally call Vice President George Green. He was then thinking he should probably call the others, those that he thought would be appropriate to know about the assassination. But then, he changed his mind…

“Mister Vice President”, he called the Vice President, who responded immediately. ”Robert Down talking, Sir. Could you please come to the Silver room, there has been an emergency. The President is dead. And please, come personally, do not send anyone else. I am afraid something terrible has happened.”

He could sense the confusion on the other side.

“Excuse me?” George Green tried to find out more, but Robert Down had already hung up.

He knew there would be questions, but explaining over the phone was ridiculous and futile to him. And he had zero time to waste.

Then, he called his assistant.

The assistant responded immediately.

“Anything new?” asked Robert Down, moving back and forth in front of the sofa where the dead President was lying.

“We can’t locate her anywhere at the moment. Now we’re going through the CCTV recordings. What is this about? Why are you so anxious?” he wanted to say ‘frustrated and mysterious’.

“Listen…” he wanted to issue an order and raise awareness, so everyone could act according to protocol, but then changed his mind. He knew that would be a step in the wrong direction at this moment. Postponing ten minutes or so, or even hours, would not change the usual procedure set in order for emergencies, nor would it help them catch Elizabeth Tribe faster. But if he did that now, he would change history. After all, they do know who was to blame. “The President is dead. The last person seen with him is his mistress. Thus she’s a suspect…” he didn’t want to say “a suspect” but that word was part of his daily life. “That’s why we need to find her.”

He could only imagine what his shaken assistant looked like at the moment.

“I’m sorry… what?”

“Yes, he is dead. Listen, coordinate the activities of our men and call me when you find her. And don’t tell the news to anyone yet. Not even to our men. I am waiting for the Vice President to arrive at any moment right now. We’ll decide about the next step after I hear his thoughts. I’ll give you a call.”

“The situation is very… delicate”, he added. “If you don’t find her here, go look her up at her residence.”

“Go stand in front of the door and don’t let anyone in”, he said to the agent that was standing above the dead President’s body. “No one comes in”, he pointed out.

How much time passed since destiny had given him this ungrateful role? He wasn’t even aware that what currently seemed like eternity to him while waiting for the Vice President to arrive, could be counted in minutes. How much time did he need to get here? He didn’t even ask where he was. Really, what could he do in that short time? And how much was that short time? Why didn’t he ask him where he was? He hesitated whether he should call the one in charge of the Vice President’s security, but decided not to. He got scared the news might spread furthermore. He was deciding whether he should call other officials that he thought should know the truth, but again, concluded that he shouldn’t do anything without the approval of the Vice President.

And yet, he couldn’t wait just like that. He had to do something! But what could he possibly do when he had already limited himself? He had to stay calm. “Stay calm”, that’s what they were told during their training. But who can possibly stay calm under circumstances like these? He was calm considering how bad it could get – he resisted the urge to declare emergency right away, he didn’t alarmed the whole service, nor the establishment, because that meant the public will be informed as well. He was in charge of the situation.

The doors flung open and the Vice President flew in. He came with his Chief of Security, but entered the room alone. His face was red due to the hustle and anticipation. He looked at the Director of the Secret Service, who lowered his eyes and went to meet him. A few steps after entering, he saw the dead body of the President Alfred Bagshaw. He got stunned so much, he couldn’t move for a while. The bloodied face of the President made him desperate. He did not expect to see this. This was way more than what he was hoping to see. He didn’t expect to see such a traumatizing scene, but rather a dignifying death of the President, maybe even a natural death.

“Dear Lord, what happened?” he barely managed to ask.

“He has been murdered, Mr. Vice President. There has been an assassination”.

“Who did this?”

“His mistress”.

George Green realized there and then that this was a very delicate situation, much more delicate than the critical situations the USA have ever had since proclaiming their independence. This was not a usual murder, nor an ordinary assassination. It was not about that the victim was the President of the most powerful nation of the Earth, nor was it that his friend was lying in front of him, but it was about the place of the assassination. The assassination took place in the White House, the bastion of freedom and democracy. That made the event much ghastlier and even more significant than the atomic threats to the USA. This was an attack to the confidence and dignity of the American people. No matter the motives, the consequences of this would be catastrophically bad for the spirit of the nation.

“Are there any reasons why she did that? Have you caught her?”

“I ordered them to apprehend her. So far, I have zero information if they have. But I didn’t order anyone to declare a state of emergency. I wanted to wait for you.”

“Does this have any background story or…”

“I have no idea.”

“Whatever the reason, he is dead, may God rest his soul. Our job now is to take appropriate measures to ensure the safety of the country and not allow panic to spread throughout the nation. We also have to prevent whoever planned this to take advantage of the situation. We have to keep the dignity of the nation and… his dignity as well.”

“What do we do now?” Robert Down asked impatiently.

“Alarm everyone, and the Council will decide whether to declare a state of emergency.”

“And what do we say about the manner of… death?” he asked and looked towards the dead body.

“The President is dead now no matter what, so the manner of death doesn’t change the type and intensity of the alarm. Meanwhile, we’ll meet in the Situation Room and decide together on the necessary and reasonable decisions.”

The Vice President knew what the Director of the Secret Service was talking about. He was thinking exactly about the same thing ever since he had seen the situation. He was fully aware about the answer they had to provide for the given situation. He had already come up with a final answer. He didn’t have all the details, but the Council would give more suggestions and they would finalize everything. He was the one who had to think of a solution for the unheard event, the terrible humiliation of the proud nation. He was aware he couldn’t do everything alone, even if he abused the authority he would later on receive as a President. So he needed support and advice – maybe someone could come up with another solution, totally different than the one he had. But he would make things his own way, feeling that’s the only right thing to do. His thoughts wandered and he started thinking how all of this looked as if he were a part of a Hollywood blockbuster. ’Still, this is real life.’ He focused on the moment. Before exiting the room, he ordered Robert Down to appoint guards in front of the door and to prevent anyone from entering the room. That went also for the agents in charge of the security of the room.

“What happens if Miss Bagshaw appears?”

“The same goes for her. But just in case, make sure she is as farther away as possible. If she is outside, have them take her someplace else… wherever, just very far away, until we decide how to deal with the situation.”

 

 

 

 

                                                     Chapter 2

 

Assassination retreat

Even Ernest Crump himself wasn’t aware how he managed to cross the street. He was delirious. He had no idea whether he was running or barely walking, almost as if an invisible force guided him and gave him orders to which he was compelled to. But no matter the speed of walking, he was aware of one thing: he kept on walking with the group of people crossing the street. He knew that’s how he was going to stay invisible. There were cameras all over the street and he knew they were there – he could even see some of them. It would be ridiculous not to have eyes all over the place, knowing that the goal of the eyes was to control passers with grim intentions.

The big group of people had slowly started to spread out. But it didn’t matter anymore because just a few more steps and he would already be on the other side of the street. He had a certain feeling that’s how he would get saved. Maybe not a hundred-percent saved, but even a one-percent saved was giving him enough hope. He wasn’t able to think about anything else at the time except on how to cross the street. He didn’t dare think what was going on in the White House nor how the event was unfolding. He didn’t think about the time he had left, nor if he could run away. He didn’t dare to think about those things, not even for a single moment.

When he reached the other side, he felt a relief. As if a light breeze came along and took part of the heavy load off his shoulders.

Now he had different perspectives in front of him. His possibilities were of great size, only because he was a great man himself.

Since he had reached the other side of the street, he knew the second part of his escape plan begun now. Every move he did was planned. Everything depended solely on him, because he didn’t want to get anyone else involved. He could have relied on the guys from the drug cartel, but he didn’t trust anyone. He didn’t want to rely on anyone else except himself – he trusted himself only.

His eyes wandered off to the side, checking the activity in the surroundings. He was secretly watching people and assessing their behavior. People were acting completely normal – no rush, no distress. A police vehicle passed by and he watched it go as far as he could without turning his head.

His could hear his blood pressure rushing in his ears.

When you set out to escape the crime scene, get out of there as fast as possible – he thought of the first rule of the assassin on the run.

The thing he expected was already in front of him – a free cab, waiting to pick up passengers. He got hold of the door handle and got inside. The cab driver turned around to see the passenger.

“Benning Road,” he said with a different voice, but still loud enough so the driver can understand.

“Benning Road,” repeated the driver to make sure he heard correctly.

Ernest Crump nodded.

“He’s gay,” thought the cab driver to himself. He was used to seeing all types of folks in his car and wasn’t confused at all.

Crump noticed the question in his eyes. He moved his hand in a manner that said “Just shut up and drive!”

The car pulled out of the parking spot and mixed with the other vehicles.

He felt safer inside. He felt instant relief and his spirit became brighter. Now he was certain he managed everything, that he did the most unbelievable act which would make him a legend. Now he was slowly starting to realize the difficult burden of the task and the risk he decided to accept. Outside, rain drops started to fall, getting bigger and heavier with the minute. The rain made him even more assured in his success and he dared to put an impudent smile on his face. Why wouldn’t he smile, when even the nice country music playing on the radio was similar to the urge he had to just let go of the pressure inside him – the long feared failure. He was finally able to give himself some peace. After numbing his feelings and getting maniacally determined to do the most refined and most courageous assassination plot in modern history, the need to change his inner state came on its own. It was crucial for him to be able to feel optimism and hope. And that was only possible because of his limitless confidence, narcissism and his contempt towards death.

God gave him time, he thought to himself. “Only because I am a God of my own”.

The car was moving with full speed on the street.

He would open the window at times to hear the outside noise.

The usual city noise – the sound of cars, honks and tires screeching.

 When running away, run away as far as possible from the scene of the crime – he thought of the second rule of the assassin on the run.

And he would be running away, oh so far! Farther away from what those set out to catch him will even think about! He could already feel secure in his thoughts. That was his own world, a whole world for himself. A content and exciting place at the same time. He was alone there, but never lonely. He was always enough for himself.

The cab driver started talking.

Crump didn’t pay attention to the clatter. But suddenly, he noticed the humor in his story. He didn’t laugh but he did study the driver in detail.

Then he got back to his thoughts. He was thinking how he was going to enjoy his money, how he was going to invest it to extend and renew his estate. To the lions, his pets, he would make a better dwelling and provide more food. Those would be the days of utter happiness and satisfaction. Because there would be no other option. Indeed, it would have been nice if he could live in the USA. That was a fascinating country, different from the other, literally the best country in the world. An expensive jewel in the crown of the nations. Without the USA, a large part of the world would still be repressed under a dictatorship. The USA is like the head of a high-speed train, pulling the rest of the world with it. Without her existence, the social relations, art and technology would be lagging centuries behind. Even the people were different. Nicer, friendlier, as if they were born to give out their soul to the outer world, trying to please everyone. Only people like that could have a country as beautiful as the USA. If he were an American citizen, he would fight to keep that level of freedom and democracy. He would chop heads off if anyone tried to harm the state. He would kill that person in an instant, without further ado. Maybe the people bound out to chase him would be thinking the same – to kill him, without further ado.

It was a large conflict of interests that he brought pain and suffering to a great country he loved. But what could he do? His job was to kill people, and as a sensible businessman, he knew this was the biggest opportunity in his career so far. There are zero emotions in business. He loved the saying “nothing personal, keep everything professional.”

He would be remembered as the ghost-killer who most traumatized the nation after the assassination of the President John Fitzgerald Kennedy.

But, he thought to himself, the American nation is great enough to manage pain in a dignified way.

The show of life must go on.

As the cab was pulling up in front of the traffic lights, another depressing thought sprung to life.

Crump looked outside his window. People on his right side appeared to be hurrying up somewhere. There was something different going on in this block. There was only a little left before exiting the crowded parts of the city and leaving for his final destination. Suddenly, he experienced a strange premonition. He turned his head and looked through the windshield. He could see that a police patrol vehicle was parked on the corner of the opposite side and policemen were getting out of the car in a big hurry.

Crump tried to see the traffic lights.

The cab driver said something indistinct.

“Why are we waiting?” Crump wanted to ask more, but he wasn’t sure whether he should state his true sexual orientation. That’s why he only tapped the driver’s back and gestured with his hand. “What’s going on?”

The cab driver gave him a weird look.

“They turned off the traffic lights”, he said. “God knows how long we’ll be waiting now.”

Crump looked around. They were stuck in an infinite pool of vehicles from all sides. But there was one lucky thing in all of that – they were right next to the pavement, so he could leave the cab immediately if there was a need for that. And they were almost right next to his destination. Would there be a need for running? How long had it been since the assassination? Did someone notify the police, the public, or the authorities? He didn’t even bother to look at his watch all this time, because he knew that wasn’t going to change anything and it would make him impatient. He was safer in the cab rather than driving alone. In this case, he could avoid being suspected at just because he wouldn’t be alone in his vehicle. Who would think that the assassin of the most powerful man on the planet would ride a cab afterwards? Even he didn’t think that was possible until he researched all means of transport trying to decide what would work best. He wanted to escape typical assassination routine. If he decided to rent a car meant a lot of prying eyes would see that car. He would have to drive and pull up somewhere meanwhile trying to stay unnoticed. And even more, he would be easily seen in the crowds, just because a lone driver is more suspicious. And not to even think the tone he would have to choose and what would be better – to take the mask off his face or drive with his face hidden? It was clear that was some risky business.

The car started to move.

“They cleared traffic”, said the driver. “The hold wasn’t for long”, he said but after they passed a few meters, the traffic stopped again.

The situation was getting tense and Crump started getting anxious. They moved a bit again. He could feel his rage shimmering inside him. It was a well-known feeling that transformed him into another person. He started thinking frantically. Was this a sign to get out of the car as soon as possible? Would there be any logic to stay hidden in a car, while the surroundings was filling with events, that no doubts, he was the reason for?

He looked around trying to see something suspicious, something that would be a sign that they were coming for him. But except the lines of cars, the tense faces of the drivers and their companions, he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. He felt a small relief.

Still, even under the false image of tranquility, he could feel something was up.

He decided to get out of the cab and move further by himself. Just as he was trying to open the cab’s door, the cab moved along unexpectedly and he lost his balance a bit.

The driver was trying to catch up the vehicles in front of him, but even he had to slow down. The car got to a halt. Crump had a very sharp eye for detail and he could see that the police started choosing random vehicles and checking passengers inside. He was wondering whether they started the search for him. His head was spinning and he couldn’t decide whether to leave or stay. What could he hope for if he stayed? But wouldn’t it be very suspicious if he left the cab? He faced a dilemma for the very first time.

But he didn’t need much to make up his mind. This was a risk he was willing to take.

The police patrol was a few meters in front of them. Crump, tense and fearing, was waiting to see what was going to happen. All of the passengers in front of them showed their IDs, the police officer approved and they were all ready to go. One officer was in charge of the traffic. The one choosing the vehicles just waved them by and the driver stepped on the accelerator.

Crump, visibly relieved, sighed.

Now everything looked better. He was slowly approaching the place where the second part of his escape was about to start.

He tapped the driver on the shoulder and asked him to stop.

He paid and when the driver tried to return his change, he waved him off.

He stepped out. The rain has scared off the pedestrians and the streets were deserted. He only had to walk around 150 yards to the building in which the day before he left a package.

He reached it and went in the basement, where the heating system was located. There was a broken pipe in the wall, out of which he pulled out a plastic bag. He had clothes in there. He quickly started stripping down and putting on the new clothes. He was clearly shaken. Even though he wanted to be a bit calmer, he couldn’t contain his excitement. “Calm down,” he said to himself. “You’re shaken because you worried whether the package was going to be here or not,” he consoled himself. He took two deep breaths and tried to regain his calm. He put the women’s clothing in the same bag, as well as the wig. And with that, de jure, the life of Elizabeth Tribe had come to an end.

He shoved his hand in the pipe and digging deeper, he pulled out an ID card, wrapped in plastic, on the name of George Littlewood. Again, he was the man trying to find his luck.

“Someone who has never been on a foxhunt in the winter will never know the power of their mind”, he said, content, and left the building.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                    Chapter 3

 

The meeting in the Situation Room

Fate had wanted that all of the members of the National Security Council were in the capitol during the most tragic moment of the more recent history of the USA.

They all got the information about the importance of the meeting, but not about what the meeting was going to be about. They were told it’s an ad-hoc, a meeting with a very important topic to be discussed. There would be no other topic and no excuse for not attending would be taken.

They all arrived at the scheduled time. One could see the confusion on their faces. They were all chatting among themselves, hoping that someone else would be more informed and explain all the secrecy for the meeting. But the answer coming from everyone was the same – a shrug and an empty look.

The Vice President was seated on his usual place in the middle of the table, right across the place where the President was usually seated. His face was frowny and pale. Everyone could catch a glimpse of his terrible mood.

While waiting, he tried to calmly – as calm as can one be in circumstances like those – read the reports for the war situation on potential state aggressors. There were no suspicious acts, no shuffle of war forces, no missiles were activated, nor did anyone issue a threat or a potential attack.

He was thinking what could possibly be the background of it all. What was going on in the heart of the world? Who created a big wave in the calm sea of political games?

The chair of the President, with his name written on it – Alfred Bagshaw – was empty.

It remained empty while everyone else took their seats.

That wasn’t something odd, because even in ordinary days, the President followed only after everyone else was seated. While waiting for him, the mood had always been light. Now, that was not the case, one could easily tell. The Vice President was greeting everyone in a cold manner and he spared them of his witty jokes as they walked in. His body language told a story of grave worry and anxiety. His normally reddish cheeks were dead pale. And he seemed deep into thought, even lost at times.

After making sure everyone was there, George Green subtly called the Situation Room Deputy Director.

“Tom!” he called with a painful moan. “Before starting with the official part of the meeting, I would like you to kindly ask everyone to leave, except members of the government, the members of the National Security Council and the Chief Executives of CIA and the Secret Services. Oh, and by the way, turn off the microphones. Nothing said at this meeting is ever allowed to be recorded.”

The assisting personnel were surprised, but said nothing on the request to leave. They were doubtful for a moment, waiting to hear an explanation of some kind for the unusual request but none came. His authority as a Vice President was sacred to everyone, but not enough to help him in the hierarchy in the room. Those remaining in the room were still expecting to hear an explanation about why the President is late, so another unusual activity made them wonder even more.

Never involve more people than necessary to get something done.

He reminded himself of that and shortlisted the remaining candidates, out of who he expected complete understanding and support for the proposal he was about to state, as well as unlimited loyalty. Everyone who, according to him, did not match those criteria, was left out. There was no need to have the general and his advisors there. In a critical situation like that one, a delicate choice and well-timed actions were crucial for a guaranteed success.

Other than the Vice President, in the room remained:

Culbert Jarvis, the Assistant to the President for National Security Affairs

Peter Hamond, the Secretary of State

Neal Chandler, the Secretary of Defense

Bruno Schneider, the Secretary of Energy

Morton Beebe, the Attorney General and Government Member

Clifford Sutton, the Director of CIA,

Robert Down, the Director of the Secret Services and

Cedric Cantu, the press representative to the Vice-President.

“Gentlemen, the President will not be joining us”, were the first words George Green said after he closed the door. “Nor the other adjoining officials of this Committee.”

The surprise was significant.

Everyone turned their head towards him.

George Green stood up.

“Gentlemen, a tragedy has happened”, he said. “I’m afraid the President is… dead.” He paused, allowing everyone apprehend the information.

An absolute silence fell on the room. Everyone was shocked with the information. No one expected to hear something like that. No one could shed off the stunned look on their face. Everyone was awaiting to hear additional information.

Everyone was shaken, deeply shaken. And those were people who shook the world, who had seen death and terror, and exactly those people were shaken. And not only that – they looked like death passed through them for a minute. Only after a minute, life inside them came back. They were slowly starting to grasp the size of the tragedy that struck the USA.

“What? How? When?” those were the first questions.

The Vice President stood silent for a minute, allowing them to absorb the news and calm down from the shock.

“Let’s show him some respect with a minute of silence”, he suggested. What he really wanted to say was “Let’s show some respect for our President, for our friend”, but he could feel that even on the bare thought of that, he could feel mutual memories coming back to him. If he said those words out loud, he wouldn’t be able to suppress his tears and his sadness. Thus he decided to skip that and follow the pre-set plan that he made before everyone came. He didn’t want this meeting to become a crying party.

For the first time in the history of the USA, the highest security body of the country was paying respect to a late president, for whom they didn’t even know was dead before the start of this meeting.

Everyone stood up.

“Amen!”

After they sat back down, everyone’s heads turned towards him.

“Gentlemen, according to Article II, Section 1, Clause 6 of the Constitution of the USA, in case the President passes away, resigns or is impeached during his term, the Vice President takes over… Unfortunately, the time has come when I have to call myself upon that provision and pass you on unfortunate news like those. I am deeply saddened that we are witnessing a tragedy like this that shall affect us all, deep in our hearts. I wouldn’t take too much time explaining procedure right now because we are all familiar with it. Every action needed to protect the States and the interest of the States has been taken. Orders have been given out to make troops ready for combat. The security of the country has not been questioned. That is exactly why I want all of us present here, even with the pressure we’re currently exposed to, to come up, cool-headedly and calmly, with a solution for the problem we have. Again, we’ll talk procedure afterwards, in the official part of the meeting.”

Everyone looked around. No one answered the question that confused them – why are they the only ones there after the President is dead? It was obvious the situation is critical and is asking for deep analysis of every undertaken move, an analysis that required a bunch of other officials.

“Green, with all due respect towards you, but I don’t understand why we are avoiding procedure. I understand the awkwardness of the situation, but I don’t see why we should be skipping regular events for the current situation”, said the Secretary of State. He was talking to him as a friend; it was clear that according to him, there was no need for this conspiracy meeting.

“Yes, I agree!” said the Secretary of Defense. “In a situation like this, we need to take action to protect our borders and global interests. You called me and honestly, I’ve been confused ever since. It’s obvious that everything is unclear to me”.

“Yes, yes”, the Secretary of State was nodding and agreeing with everything said. But it was obvious that everyone was on the edge and waiting to hear the explanation. The truth was, everyone’s ego was affected – they all wanted to know why they were called in to a meeting that no one told them what it’s going to be about.

The Vice President understood that. He knew they wanted to get a full explanation and he wasn’t going to deny them that right. Even their impatience was reasonable. Still, he thought it was needed to state his new role and make it easier for the others to accept that. He thought that his decisiveness would help clear the stressed minds of everyone.

“Gentlemen!” he called so everyone would stop talking. “The President is dead. He was assassinated right here, with a gun, in the White House. I repeat, the President has been assassinated in the heart of the White House.”

Everyone froze over the news. They were shocked. Couldn’t believe what they just heard.

“Yes. President Alfred Bagshaw has been assassinated in the White House and his mistress, Elizabeth Tribe, was the one who shot him.”

Dead silence fell on the room. No one dared to speak or show any kind of emotion – wonder, rage. They knew that was not going to help the late President and would only prolong the time needed to take any measures. No one could avoid feeling sad. Not that they were having a blast, but for the second time that evening, everyone was stunned. They were starting to panic – for his death, for the assassination, from the feeling of impotence. The assassination that just occurred has weakened their confidence, left them feeling human.

“An order has been issued for her arrest”, said George Green. “Afterwards, we shall learn the truth about this crime!”

“How is that even possible?” exploded the Attorney General. “This is unheard of! What were the security doing?” he said, turning towards the Director of the Secret Service, who was almost hiding next to the Vice President.

Suddenly, as if by charm, everyone woke up. Every person in that room had a question or a comment. A storm of words disrupted the silence in the room.

The Vice President allowed everyone to tell their opinion, to shed a part of the anxiety and frustration built up in them and waited for the right moment to go on with his speech. He knew that in times of pain, reason failed. Of course he was pained as well, but the time needed to prepare for the meeting allowed him to stabilize. He was always good for dealing with a crisis. No crisis has ever happened that made him lose his self-control. No matter how many emotions there were in a certain event, he could decide with his mind. He was the perfect shadow for the President Alfred Bagshaw. He was calm, discreet, direct and effective, a man who made things run smoothly. He had great personal style, appearance, he knew body language so well and had born-in rhetoric – the perfect gentleman. People around him were well aware of his capabilities. He has always had the status of a naturally born leader.

He couldn’t judge his peers in the rooms. But if the meeting proceeded to be just a series of questions and answers, they would be losing valuable time. He had to give answers to logical questions. Even though he was ready for that, a key element was missing. Many further actions were relying upon that element. The uncertainty in the case shuffled his mind. There were too many unknown aspects, too many. It wasn’t easy to come up with a conclusion and choose a right decision.

“Gentlemen, may I speak?” said the Secretary of State. “Please!” He was trying to quiet everyone. “We have to suppress our sorrow and try to find a solution for this painfully tragic and, I’d have to add, very unpleasant situation for our nation.” Everyone was quiet now. “No matter how deeply shaken we are, we have to think about how events are going to unfold after this. Even though the situation seems naive, it is certainly not. I am strongly convinced that this is an act that no reasonable state would do! Only a lunatic can bestow this upon us. The President of Russia is a reasonable man. The President of China prefers compromise. The key question is to find out who is the background of this and what was their final goal. Which organization did this? What is their goal? Did they want to gain some strategic advantage in international relation? It’s not that they can do much in a democratic country where the President does not have all the power…” – his head turned towards the Director of CIA, Clifford Sutton. “What do you have?”

The Director of the CIA had been trying to come up with an answer for the ruthless murder. The same problem had the Director of the Secret Service. In their heads, they were trying to rule out a potential someone whom they could point to and say “that’s the one who did it!” But the reality was, they couldn’t say that for sure.

“You know that we’ve been performing a detailed investigation about the assassination attempt in Brazil. That’s the only case someone managed to actually pull off. Everything else was just empty threats, verbal attempts… there are zero indications that a foreign hostile service did this.”

“What about North Korea?” asked the Secretary of State.

“We don’t even have clues that they have been thinking about something like that. There are no assassination attempts to foreign leaders in their history. I don’t think they would dare doing something like this – they wouldn’t gain anything, just lose what they already have”, explained the Director of CIA. He wanted to add that if that ever happens, the North Koreans would lose their sparring partner in a boxing ring where the partner silently allows them to be equal to them in front of the home audience, even though they are much stronger and could wipe them out in a second.

Robert Down was impatiently waiting for the call. The walkie-talkie was practically melting in his hand. Even though he was trying to catch up on the discussion in the Situation Room, he wasn’t following.

The Secret Service Intervention Team went to Elizabeth Tribe’s apartment and he was expecting to hear from them any minute now. The police had been informed that they should be watching her apartment, in case she showed up. If she did, she was to be arrested immediately.

“Then what could be the goal of this assassination? What motives could possibly be hidden under a crime like this?” asked the Secretary of State.

Again, treacherous silence. All of the heads in the room stood still, thinking what could be.

“Why are we not taking a love quarrel into consideration?” asked Morton Beebe.

Everyone turned towards him. No matter how logical, in a political world that consisted of various plots, suspicions and powerful games, the word “love” was put aside. Because no one did anything in politics because of love. His comment made everyone remember the time he showed up to a meeting with a “I’m not Bagshaw” shirt. Maybe he wanted to express his political opinion on the matter, but his political party peers didn’t approve of the act.

“Gentlemen?” said the Vice President after Robert Down said something to him. “We got the latest intel.” Everyone turned, and he continued “Elizabeth Tribe has been found dead in her apartment and is most likely murdered. Her body is found in the bath tub.”

This was another shock for the people in the room. If there was even the slightest hope that the President’s assassination would be cleared out when his mistress was found, now, there was zero doubt that she was just an instrument in someone else’s hands and a tool to achieve someone else’s ambition. The cause was still unclear. As well as the murderer.

“Gentlemen, please. We don’t have a lot of time to observe what happened, nor how and why. Authorities shall give us the answers to that. We need to devote ourselves to our most important tasks – we, as leaders of this country, we need to make sure the country is secure and defend its honor. This is not a time for big words, but rather for big decisions”, George Green stated.

“We have to focus on what activities should be undertaken and find a solution that we all agree to. I presume that it is clear to everyone that this is a murder, and no matter who arranged it and what their motives where, it sends a clear message - to humiliate American people, to crumble his dignity and pride. The assassination in the White House is ruining the reputation of the country. This is a humiliation that would always haunt the people of the USA, even more than the assassination of John Kennedy. It would kill the spirit and morals of this proud nation. That is scarier than a thousands of atomic bombs… it is our duty to undertake every necessary measure to keep the morals high in such a dreadful time. We have to fight the challenge put upon us. That is why I ask of you to show wisdom and solidarity. No, I expect that out of you. Whoever did this, won’t get the pleasure of enjoying in our pain… whatever we will be planning to do, we have to keep the dignity of the nation and of the late President. That is why I suggest to come up with an appropriate plan. But before that… How are we going to present the death of the President to the public?” That was a question no one even dreamt about. He was slowly looking at everyone at the table. Some of them looked back, others just stared in front of them and some didn’t even lift their heads. The weight of the moment was determined the greatness of a person.

Everyone kept silent for a few minutes. No one stood up and offered a solution for the situation they were in. Now everyone had a clear image of what they were into. They were asked to support an idea that put them to a great risk. They never thought life would put them to a challenge this big.

The silence that fell was getting heavier.

“Why don’t we just tell the truth?” suggested Morton Beebe. “Secret Services would be the ones to blame.”

“Is the truth more important than the mental health of the nation?” George Green conferred. “We cannot allow a trauma like this to haunt the nation, the same thing that happened with the assassination of John Kennedy. We cannot allow everyone to think that the dark forces are stronger than the forces of the good and that they are strong enough to do terrible things like this. I wouldn’t want to live with a trauma like that. I presume no one present here would like their children and grandchildren to live with a heritage as shameful as that.”

“I am still a firm believer that the American nation has the right to know the truth”.

“Yes, but not this generation, nor the next one”. The Vice President needed to soften the persistence of the first man of the Justice Department. He had no clear image of what would happen to the truth in the future. What would he do with it, once the legal terms of obsolesce expire? The nightmare of a truth would just remain a small part, a fiction, in the memory of the alive ones, unburdened by the laws, regulations and procedure which were now arising as a threat. “Gentlemen, how could we possibly remain a symbol of freedom in the world, when the leader of the free world has been killed in the heart of freedom? This is an attack in the core of the country’s heart.”

“The heart of this country is the free spirit of its people”, stated Beebe.

Apparently, everyone looks differently at national interest, thought George Green to himself. But in the current situation, it was crucial to make the majority agree with his point of view. Past experience made him persist in his intentions to make everyone agree to the proposed solution. Even though this was a different crisis, incomparable with any other, he expected them to remain immune to doubt. However, to make sure it wouldn’t happen, he needed to show that the idea was doable. If not, it could be that an unknown hero becomes a known manipulator.

“My heart feels that my suggestion is the true solution. Do you feel the same in your hearts? It’s better if one President dies with dignity, rather than humiliate the whole nation”.

The Attorney General kept drinking water all the time. By the looks on his face, one could tell something was happening inside him. It looked as if he were barely breathing and the glow in his eyes was slowly burning off. Everyone stopped for a minute and turned to him.

“Is everything alright?” asked the Vice President.

Beebe barely turned. He couldn’t see the Vice President clearly.

“I have to leave”, he said. “I’m choking.”

Everyone looked at him with contempt.

George Green didn’t like that the Attorney General wasn’t feeling well.

“If you’re not feeling well enough to be here, you are free to leave, but you mustn’t share the news of what is going on here. You would have to support the agreement we reach and keep everything in top secrecy.”

The Attorney General barely managed to get up. Everyone turned their heads grudgingly towards him. They were left without an accomplice.

“Gentlemen, we don’t need to share the news of his death right now. But it goes without saying that we will need to think about that. Everything we would have to do would be now, in this hour. I would suggest that we should publish his death as an unfortunate event, a heart attack. If someone has anything better to say, say it now. But nothing is to be associated with an assassination or murder…”

“We can find him a double…” someone bashfully said.

Everyone else just snorted.

The Secretary of State asked for word.

“That idea is the exact opposite of all the existing laws. As elected and assigned officials, it is our duty to…” He was saying what the Attorney General would have said if he hadn’t left.

“Peter, enough”, angrily said the Vice President. “As I said, there is no time for unnecessary debates on topics all of us are well familiar about. True, we have to obey the law – we are the ones who create them in the first place. But we have to take into consideration the fact that we are statesmen at the same time. Sometimes the interests of the state don’t align with the interests of the law. Unfortunately, this is a case like that. Destiny has given us the role of deciding whether the interest of the state is bigger than the interest of law. We are all aware that what we do now is against the law. But even if we broke the law a thousand times, we do it for the state. Every reasonable human being would understand that there is no better explanation in order to keep the dignity of the nation. It is a big responsibility and that is why I have you here. I thought I could count on you, thinking you would understand the graveness of the situation and won’t hesitate to come up with a decision. According to me, this is the best way to solve the situation. But if the majority of voters thinks in another way, I’ll accept that. Whatever we’ll be doing, we’ll be doing it for the state, not for our own good. Even if someone blames us some day, I truly believe that the nation will be able to recognize and support our most honest intentions.”

Again, he gave everyone some time to think. George Green knew that the circle of trust this time had to be close. They would be taking actions to hide the assassination of the President. Their hands would be writing the documents stating another point of view for the event. The written papers would not reveal a truth that everyone orally agreed it would not be stated. As a single person, he didn’t have enough power to suppress the truth. Directives issued would have zero importance without enforcers, which is why he was asking for support. Because there was no reaction, he continued speaking.

“Do you agree to present the death of the President Alfred Bagshaw as an unfortunate event?”

Everyone firmly nodded.

Not a single person in that room was sure whether that was a rational decision of a rational mind, or an adventure with an unknown end due to the pressure of the Vice President. But they did know one thing – that the need to protect the pride of the country was bigger than the fear of exposal to the democratic bodies, founded to fight law malpractice. They were aware that even the slightest slip of what they were about to do could ruin their careers. They didn’t have any hope that the executive power of the country had enough instruments in their hands to manage through the labyrinths of the legislative body, but in those moments, they were swept off by the speech of the future President. Those that had no courage, had already left the room.

The Secretary of Defense thought how it would be a great irony of life, if their sacrifice in other to save democracy would turn them into potential victims of the same democracy.

“I want everyone to state their opinion personally. Do you agree to hide the assassination of the President Alfred Bagshaw from the face of the public and show it as an unfortunate event?”

“Is that even possible?” asked the Secretary of Defense.

“Everything is possible if you want it” calmly said the Vice President.

“We would be lying to the public. We would be the creators of the biggest fraud in the history of the USA”.

“Gentlemen, if some of you are not prepared to sacrifice everything for their country, maybe you shouldn’t even run for high positions like these”, said George Green. “Kissinger wrote in his memoirs – In a crisis, only those who are the strongest are willing to take action and responsibility; others are just scared knowing someone else would be paying for their mistakes. Am I surrounded with brave people, people who love their country?”

Again, a heavy silence filled out the room.

“I’m expecting your opinion… Peter?”

“Yes, I agree”, agreed the Secretary of State.

“Neal?”

“Yes!”

“Culbert?”                                  

“Yes!”

“Bruno?”

“Yes.”

“I would like to hear the opinion of the others as well…”

Everyone else just shrugged.

The Vice President was satisfied.

“The Council for the National Security of the USA has unanimously voted that the assassination of the President Alfred Bagshaw is to be shown to the public as an unfortunate event. Gentlemen, let’s send a message to everyone trying to put their hands in this crime: Don’t play games with the USA!”