Executive Actions (53 page)

T
eddy Lodge pulled the sleeve of his suit back to glimpse his watch. Seventeen minutes before noon. Seventeen minutes until he walked out to the podium; the first president to be sworn in without a first lady at his side since James Buchanan in 1857. The president-elect smiled with extreme satisfaction. It had been a long road, requiring exceptional preparation, perhaps the most any man had ever undertaken to get to the White House.

He made a final check of his appearance at an anteroom mirror off the Rotunda. He brushed his famous locks back, replicating the figure in his campaign posters. Rugged, athletic, handsome. Once more he straightened the tie that Newman selected and stared at his reflection.
Seventeen minutes
, he gloated.

Outside, piercing sirens. But nothing distracted Lodge. It was noisy, active, and wonderful; a day better than he ever imagined.

Lodge turned to a knock at the door. “Mr. President.” It was Geoff Newman. He opened the door and continued.

“Mr. President. I like the way that sounds,” Lodge answered.

“Get used to it. It’s your name from now on.” He looked at Lodge. “You’re ready.”

Lieutenant Chandler remained in the Rotunda, scanning the faces, keeping an eye on everyone who had access to the area. He counted seven Secret Service agents, three other members of the Capitol Police, fifteen congressmen, eight Supreme Court Justices, and an official White House photographer. The first lady and Mrs. Lamden were also present, talking to each other. A number of Lodge’s principal campaign staff hung together, including Ceil Carson, his personal secretary, who had prayed for this day to come.

The Capitol Police usually recommended against having too many key political figures in one place. But they felt prepared. No one, except perhaps Officer Chandler showed any concern today.

It was the wailing sirens that drew his attention. Sirens usually meant trouble somewhere. Chandler stiffened. He scanned the room, but everyone was in good spirits, waiting for President-elect Lodge, his chief of staff, the vice president-elect and the chief justice.

The chief justice isn’t here yet
, Chandler noted.
And where is Governor Lamden?
He approached a Secret Service agent.

“Are we running late?”

“I don’t think so.” The agent read his name tag and added, “…Lieutenant Chandler.”

“But we’re missing some of the stars of the show. The president. Governor Lamden.”

The Capitol Policeman was absolutely right. “Hold on. I’ll see what I can find out,” he said. He made a quick inquiry via his radio and repeated the words” he heard on his earpiece. “Roger that,” he said getting an answer. “On the way with the Top Gun.” Then to Chandler he said, “They’re on the way.”

But Lt. Chandler had actually heard more. “On the way
with
the president.”

Chandler tipped a salute in thanks and inched back toward the corridor that led to the Senate side. He had a clear view of all the entrances. A sixth sense told him something wasn’t right.

Across the Rotunda a door opened. Chandler turned to see what was happening. Congressman, soon to be President, Lodge strode in with Newman behind him. The White House photographer began snapping digital pictures of the president-elect. The legislators and justices applauded. Lodge smiled to them all, but motioned for Ceil to step forward. He hugged her.

“I knew you’d get here, Mr. President,” she said. “Jenny would have been proud.”

Lodge acknowledged the comment with a simple “Yes, yes.” He released her and walked to the center of the Rotunda, relishing the applause.

Chandler cocked his ears. The sirens had stopped. Seconds later he heard footsteps on the stone floor. They were heavy, full of authority and bearing down fast.

The lieutenant’s fingers inched toward his pistol. A man entered the area and flashed a Secret Service ID. He was recognized, but Chandler observed that he wasn’t dressed for the occasion. It looked as though he’d been in the field. Behind him, two others in the more typical FBI business suits.

Chandler relaxed his fingers, but kept them close to his holster. He split his attention between the incoming trio and the president-elect. Lodge was now politely shaking hands his friends. The agent who arrived in such a rush now planted himself at the West Entrance. He kept his back to the door; assuming an offensive posture.

Roarke scanned the room as he was trained to do. Only a Capitol Police Officer seemed to take any interest in him. That was good. Soon the president would arrive with a Marine detail.

He checked his watch. 11:49
A.M.
Roarke knew that Morgan Taylor, only minutes behind him, also had to take a detour. Three questions went through his mind.
What would he do if the President didn’t arrive in time? What authority did he have to prevent the swearing in? Was it even possible?
And then he worried about Katie.
Where the hell is she?
The president told him what he had done and now Roarke was worried.

He saw that the supreme court justices were in a spirited exchange, intentionally standing away from Lodge. Roarke side stepped closer. Justice Ronald Coffey, a tall, distinguished man spoke. He was one of two black members of the Supreme Court and clearly the most commanding personality of the group.

“We’re already behind. The vice president should have been sworn in by now. But we’ll wait until noon for the chief justice. If he has not arrived, we will proceed according to schedule.”

There was no dissent, only nods. After all, it was proscribed law; Article XX of the U.S. Constitution.
“The terms of the President and the Vice President shall end at noon on the 20
th
day of January…and the terms of their successors shall then begin.”

“But,” Coffey added, “I might walk very, very slowly,” to which his colleagues laughed.

In Roarke’s mind, Justice Browning and Katie should have arrived. He motioned to another Secret Service agent to come over. It was the same man who’d spoken to Newman. He recognized Roarke and was keenly aware that Roarke had rather special access to Top Gun.

“Littlefield,” Roarke whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Where’s Gavel?” Roarke asked using the agency code for the chief justice.

“Enroute, but late. Hell, everyone’s late today.”

“He’s supposed to have someone with him. A woman. Check for me.”

“Stand by.” The agent called on his transceiver. “Status on Gavel? Does he have a companion?”

Roarke saw the agent shake his head no.

“No?” Roarke’s blood pressure rose. “A woman? Ask about a woman named Kessler.”

“Say again. Is Gavel with a woman named Kessler?”

He waited for an answer and then shook his head again as he heard the reply. The agent repeated it for Roarke. “No, sir there’s no woman.”

“What? I never should have gotten her into this.”

“What was that?” the other agent asked.

“Nothing. It’s just that…”

“Wait,” the agent said. He held his finger to Roarke as he listened to his a muffled communication in his ear. It sounded urgent. Roarke, as a special agent, never used the transceivers. Now he wished the damned thing was plugged directly into his brain.

“Roger,” Littlefield said. He pointed to the East Entrance. The other Secret Service agents heard the same message and they all turned to the commotion that followed the report—people running down the corridor toward the Rotunda.

T
wo men, looking like well-dressed linebackers led the way. Behind them were two others in suits. They were followed by five Marines and a civilian in a leather jacket and jeans.

“Congressman Lodge!” a voice called out.

Lodge turned to the direction of the greeting. It had come from the pack bearing down on him. He automatically smiled, still not knowing whose voice he heard.

Newman saw him first. “Taylor,” he whispered to Lodge. “Well, he’s finally out of his cocoon. Let him come to you.”

“Teddy, I’d like to have a few words with you before you step out,” the president announced.

Lodge stood his ground as Newman recommended. He saw Governor Lamden a few steps behind Taylor. “What’s Lamden doing with him?” Lodge asked his chief of staff. Newman didn’t know. He drifted back as the two approached, allowing Lodge center stage.

Morgan Taylor separated from the pack, zeroing in on his opponent The two Secret Service agents raced to keep up. The Marines remained behind.

“Teddy…”

“Ah, Mr. President!” Lodge raised his voice. “You made it.”

While Lodge engaged the president, Newman became acutely aware that the Marines had their automatic weapons in their hands and Secret Service agents had virtually encircled Lodge, Taylor and Lamden.

Newman wasn’t familiar enough with protocol, but there was
something
about the way they held their ground. And then he saw another man who at first had been blocked by the Marines.
O’Connell!
He was wearing a Navy flight jacket and he had a video camera at eye level.

Newman instinctively moved further away.

“Teddy,” the president said to Lodge as he approached. Lodge held out his hand. The president, dressed in the Brooks Brothers suit that Louise Swingle had provided, did not return the gesture.

“Mr. President. Governor. Good to see you.”

“Perhaps not, Congressman.”

“Oh?” Lodge frowned then assumed he understood Taylor’s meaning. “Morgan I know this is a hard day for you. You staged a solid campaign. But it’s over. You can help make this transition much easier.”

“There won’t be a transition,” the president said coldly.

“Well then,” he said sarcastically, “Let’s just go out and smile for the cameras.” Lodge dropped any pretense of being friendly. “Quite honestly Mr. President, I thought we’d have to get you out of the White House with an eviction notice. The way you sequestered yourself these last weeks.”

“I wasn’t in the White House, Teddy.”

“No?”

“I was out of town and not checking all my messages.”

“Where? Back in Tibet, or looking into retirement villages in Florida,” he joked.

Taylor ignored the snide comment. “Out of the country. Haven’t you been following the news?”

Suddenly Lodge became flustered. He peered over his shoulder to Newman for help. Newman could hear the exchange, but had not come forward. He shook his head slightly. Lodge read the signal.

“The news?”

“Tripoli. Earlier today.”

Lodge had not heard the reports. But the word “Tripoli” suddenly sent a shiver through him.

“I’m sure it will all be in
my
afternoon briefing,” Lodge proclaimed, showing nervous disinterest. “Now if you’ll excuse me,” he said looking at his watch, “We’re overdue for Governor Lamden to be sworn in.” He indicated to the ranking Supreme Court judge to come forward. “Justice Coffey, I think you have the honor in Chief Justice Browning’s absence.”

From across the Rotunda came a booming voice. “That won’t be necessary!”

Chief Justice Leopold Browning moved toward Lodge like a man half his age.

“Gentlemen, I’m sorry I’m late.” He addressed Morgan Taylor and the president-elect. “Mr. President. Congressman Lodge.” When he saw the vice president-elect he extended the greeting to him as well. “Governor Lamden. I see we’re all assembled.”

“Mr. Chief Justice,” Lodge cut in. “I’m so glad you’re finally here.”

“Thank you, but I do believe I’ve interrupted an important discussion.”

“No, not at all,” Lodge answered.

The president disagreed. “Well, as a matter of fact it is important,
Mister
Lodge. It’s about your future…” He played the moment out. “…And your past.”

Lodge’s eyes narrowed. He stared at Governor Lamden, who stood next to the president. Then the chief justice. Neither man gave him any of the answers he sought.

“Mr. Lodge. You surprise me,” the president said. “You’re usually so eloquent. What, no comment now?”

“What are you talking about Taylor?” Lodge didn’t hide any of his contempt for the man.

“First things first, Congressman.” He motioned for Newman. “Perhaps Mr. Newman would like to join our chat. Please, this is for you, too.”

Newman inched forward, taking a position behind and to the right of Agent Littlefield.

The lively acoustics in the Rotunda actually amplified the conversation so that every word was audible around the room. Scott Roarke heard them. So did everyone else including Michael O’Connell who raised his camcorder higher.

“We have a document in this country known as the Constitution, Teddy. I’m sure you’ve read it.”

Lodge rolled his eyes.

“You’ve read it?” he declared so loudly everyone felt the urgency of an answer. “All of it?”

“The debates are over, Taylor. What’s your point?”

The president addressed Chief Justice Browning. “Chief Justice, where do we stand?”

“Right on the edge, Mr. President. I will need to confer with the other Justices momentarily. I’m waiting for a volume to be brought to me by a bright young Boston lawyer; a recent acquaintance of mine. I must say, she’s quite tenacious.”

Roarke breathed a sigh of relief.
Katie!
He glanced at the president and caught a fatherly smile.

“She stopped by my office just this morning,” Browning continued. “She’ll be along shortly.”

“Will someone please get this ceremony going?” Lodge demanded.

The president ignored him and addressed the chief justice. “Would you like to proceed?”

“No, Mr. President, I think this moment belongs to you. But I presume you have some footing where you’re about to venture?”

“I do.” He called to a Marine seargent. “Sergeant Stonie.”

The biggest Marine that even Teddy Lodge had ever seen walked forward carrying a duffle bag marked Top Secret.

“Proceed, Mr. President. I’m very interested in seeing where this will all lead,” Browning admitted.

“And I’m not!” Lodge said angrily. “Governor Lamden has to take the Oath of Office. Now! Henry, let’s go!” he arrogantly ordered his running mate. Lodge pivoted toward the Capital steps and began to leave, but he was met by a wall of immovable Secret Service agents plus Davis and Bessolo.

“Out of my way!” he demanded.

They wouldn’t.

Lodge spun around furiously. “This is unbelievable! I have been elected President of the United States. You have no right to block me!”

“You may have been elected president, Teddy and according to the Constitution I fear you will be sworn in. Unless I’m told otherwise.”

Taylor saw Justice Browsing close his eyes and shake a declarative
No.

“Then you will become the first President of the United States to do so who’s also already under arrest.”

“What on God’s earth for?”

“As it’s been pointed out to me, a charge of treason,” offered the Chief Justice.

“What? You can’t be serious!” Lodge said obstinately.

The chief justice explained. “Treason, Mr. Lodge. The offense of attempting to overthrow the government of the state to which the offender owes allegiance, or of betraying the state into the hands of a foreign power,” he said so seriously it chilled the air. “High Crimes.” He didn’t need to explain the punishment it carried.

“In your case, it’s betraying the state into the hands of a foreign power since you have no allegiance to the United States,” proclaimed the president.

“I don’t know what—”

“Oh, I understand there’s more,” Chief Justice Browning interrupted. “Sedition. Unlawfully conspiring with the intent to oppose the government of the United States or impede the operation of any law of the United States, or to intimidate or prevent any person holding office in the government of the United States.”

“Well, as you can see, there’s a lot for us to work with,” Morgan Taylor offered quite calmly.

“This is bullshit!” Lodge screamed.

“No it’s not. It’s the law,” Taylor said. “United States law. The shame of it all? It seems you will become president. But I guarantee your face will never show up on any postage stamp.”

“And the evidence you’ve returned with, Mr. President,” Chief Justice Browning asked.

“Irrefutable. Enough to make your head spin and warrant impeachment of Theodore Lodge.”

If Taylor felt disappointed, he didn’t show it. Instead he glared at his opponent.

Lodge looked back toward Newman. His eyes darted around. He saw and heard everything in slow motion now. O’Connell reaching closer with his video recorder. Ceil Carson with her hand to her face in shock. The Capitol Police stepping forward. An officer at the opposite wall holding a gun.

“Oh, and one more thing,” the president added. “We’ll nail you on the death of your wife, too.”

“Newman!” Tell them we have to go now!” Lodge shouted not knowing what else to say. When his chief of staff didn’t obey, Lodge stammered, “I have been elected President of the United States. You are interfering with the constitutional process.”

“No, we are ensuring that the process is upheld,” the chief justice stated. “Article II of the Constitution. Clause 5 and Clause 6 to be specific.” The chief justice spoke from memory.
“No person except a natural born citizen, or a citizen of the United States, at the time of the adoption of this Constitution, shall be eligible to the office of President.”

“And
you
are neither!” the president proclaimed.

Lodge became totally enraged. “This is insurrection!”

“That’s how we see it, too.”

“You have no idea what you’re saying.”

“We know full well. We just returned from the Med. We raided an office in Tripoli. Fadi Kharrazi’s offices to be exact,” the president continued. “Want to know what what we found?”

Lodge’s posture tightened. His eyes glared with utter hatred but he said nothing.

“I’ll tell you anyway. It’s long and involved. It starts with a boy from Massachusetts who had the potential to become President of the United States. What ever happened to that boy, Teddy? The real Teddy Lodge. The boy who’s identity you assumed decades ago?”

The declaration hung in the air and everyone watched Lodge and the president, which was a mistake. No one was on Newman, who used the opportunity to shove Littlefield, the agent closest to him. The Secret Service man’s coat opened as he stumbled on his left foot. Newman reached in and grabbed his service revolver. Littlefield wrestled to get it back, but Newman had control. He aimed point blank at his chest. The agent died instantly.

Then, he swung the gun around to the president.

Roarke shouted, “Get Top Gun down now!” His Sig P229 was already in his right hand.

Two agents converged on the president as Newman’s gun came up. Lodge slammed into another one of the agents throwing him off balance, leaving the president wide open.

Roarke took a leap forward and dove onto the president, knocking him to his knees. He then rolled to his right, scrambling to his feet and raised his gun.

Lodge sprinted to the opposite end of the Rotunda. A Marine tried to tackle him, but missed.

Newman fired another shot. It was off the mark, but took down a Capitol Police officer who was covering the Supreme Court judges.

So far his two bullets went unanswered. Now Bessolo had his gun out. Roarke, once again up, had the best angle on Newman, but Justice Browning was in the way, preventing him from making the kill. He was also vaguely aware of Lodge picking up the downed Capitol Policeman’s Glock further away.

Too many distractions. He had to focus. He fired at the same time Newman let off another round directly at the president. He put a bullet in Newman’s left shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Morgan Taylor go completely down. Another agent fell on top of him.

Michael O’Connell was too stunned to move, too scared to even hit the floor. His DV camera offered a record of the entire event.

Another shot rang out. This time from a third gun. Roarke didn’t see where it came from. Maybe from the side where the Capitol police officer had been posted.

Roarke tracked Newman’s steps.
One, two, clear.
He held his breath and fired a better placed, but still not a deadly shot. Newman had turned sideways and the bullet only grazed his arm.
Damn.

Newman saw the president on the ground. Blood flowed onto the floor under him. He searched for a new victim.
Lamden!
Twenty feet away and unguarded. He uttered a sick laugh. Roarke sidestepped to the right. He ran and vaulted over the Speaker of the House, who was prone on the floor as Newman squeezed the trigger. But Roarke was just that much quicker. He put a bullet into his target’s chest. It joined two others discharged by Bessolo and Shannon Davis. Newman was dead by the time his head cracked open on the floor.

“Lodge!” Roarke exclaimed. His eyes swept the area. He quickly found him leaning against a wall at the Rotunda. Lodge had the gun in his hand but he would never get off a shot. Blood trickled out of a tiny hole directly between his eyes. The man purporting to be Theodore Lodge was dead.