White: A Novel by Christopher Whitcomb

Author:Christopher Whitcomb [Whitcomb, Christopher]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780446553322
Publisher: Hachette Book Group
Published: 2008-12-02T06:00:00+00:00

XII

Friday, 18 February

01:00 GMT

Vice President’s Ceremonial Office, Eisenhower Executive Office Building

“DAMMIT, ELIZABETH,DO you know what you are saying? You’re talking about treason.”

The vice president sat with her hands folded solemnly in front of her. The chairman of the joint chiefs of staff, the national security advisor, the president’s chief of staff, and the attorney general sat in a small cluster around a massive conference table in an office typically reserved for photo ops.

“I do know what I’m saying,” she calmly replied to the attorney general, Andrew Hellier. “And it is nothing of the sort. I’m merely pointing out that the president of the United States is demonstrating behavior that may become a liability to the national security of this country should we face another terrorist attack. As proctors of constitutionally prescribed rules of government, we have a sworn duty to consider all contingencies.”

“Including mutiny?” Havelock asked. “I’ll have none of it.”

“I don’t feel comfortable talking about this,” Andrea Chase agreed.

“I do,” the only uniformed member of the reluctant cabal announced. The chairman of the joint chiefs was a marine corps four-star named Oshinski who had never shied from conflict. “In fact, I want to remind everyone that the man playing hymns in the Oval Office right now has full authority to unleash the most powerful military forces in the history of the world. At present, he is about thirty feet from the football, and dammit, from what I’ve seen, that strikes this old soldier as troublesome.”

The president’s chief of staff would have none of it.

“He’s tired, for Chrisakes,” she said. “Are we really talking about invoking some arcane provision of the Constitution and altering the chain of command because David Venable needs a goddamned nap?”

“Three nights with no sleep at all,” Beechum argued. “He doesn’t remember what you tell him from one moment to the next.”

“Would you allow him to go on television in this state, Andrea?” General Oshinski asked. “Would you want the American people—or the people of the world for that matter—to see him like this?”

The air stilled as various sets of eyes drifted around the magnificent William McPherson-designed room. Originally built for the Navy Department, the space had been renovated in the 1960s and now served as a dramatic backdrop for important meetings and press conferences. Ornamental stenciling and maritime scenes covered the walls. Mahogany, white birch, and cherry formed a testament to American woodworking underfoot. Grand fireplaces carved of Belgian black marble with gilded overmantels and green marble hearths stood at the north and south walls.

“This is not an easy conversation we’re having here,” Beechum argued. “I am well aware of that. But who the hell said it was supposed to be? We have been entrusted with the care of two hundred and eighty million citizens, and we’re being attacked by enemies we can’t even identify. I’m not playing Alexander Haig. I’m trying to do what history expects of us.”

No one reacted at first. Beechum caught the eye of a Christopher Columbus bust that had been commandeered from a Spanish cruiser after the Battle of Santiago in 1898.

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