Executive Intent (43 page)

“We have just been advised that the attacks are under way in Yemen, Mr. President,” Phoenix said on the phone. “I would get those captives to the embassy right away before your aircraft carrier is hit.” He paused to listen, then said, “I'm just a messenger here, sir—I have no control over retired general McLanahan.”

Phoenix listened again, then looked directly at President Gardner, put on a slight smile, and said, “No…no, sir, I don't have a responsibility to stop this, because…I hereby resign as vice president of the United States. I have a duty to uphold the Constitution of the United States and perform my duties under the law, and I find I cannot do either for this president, so I have resigned.” He pulled a letter out of a jacket pocket and dropped it on President Gardner's desk. “Good day, Mr. President.” And with that, Kenneth Phoenix hung up the phone and walked out of the Oval Office without another word.

W
ASHINGTON
, D.C.

J
ANUARY
2013

“You
are
going to be there, aren't you, Patrick?” Ken Phoenix asked. He was in a limousine driving down Pennsylvania Avenue heading toward Constitution Avenue in the nation's capital on a surprisingly temperate January morning, talking on a secure cell phone, holding his wife's hand, his two children watching the sights of the capital from the front of the passenger compartment. “You said you would.”

“I said I might, sir,” Patrick McLanahan corrected him. “But we looked at the situation and decided against it. Sorry. Besides, I think I'm the last guy you'd want to be seen with right now.”

“Nonsense…but I understand,” Phoenix said. “You did say you'd try. How's Gia?”

“Out of the hospital and right here with me,” Patrick replied.

“And Macomber?”

“Still in the hospital, but if he doesn't leave the nurses alone, they're likely to toss him out no matter what the doctors say.”

“Still wish you could be here for this thing, General,” Phoenix said.

“It wasn't going to happen,” Patrick said. “The last thing anyone expected was for Truznyev to go public with the whole thing. I became public enemy number one in an instant. President Gardner had no choice but to indict me.”

“It's going nowhere, believe me,” Phoenix said. “We've got the best defense attorneys waiting in the wings, but their services won't be needed.”

“We'll see.”

“In the meantime, not a hell of a lot else has changed,” Phoenix went on. “China has practically taken over Somalia—they've made
a basing deal with the northern Somali province of Puntland to improve port facilities on the Gulf of Aden in exchange for missile-basing rights. Both Russia and China are building aircraft carriers like crazy. Russia stopped supporting resupply missions to the International Space Station and are resupplying the Chinese Tiangong military space station instead. Allies are either arguing with us or turning their backs. It's a mess. And I don't have my favorite general by my side advising me.”

“I'll always be there, sir,” Patrick said.

“But you should be where you deserve to be—right up there with me,” Phoenix said.

“I thought about it and talked it over with Gia for a long time,” Patrick said, “and we decided what I knew all along: I'm just not a politician. I couldn't make it as a lobbyist, private military contractor, defense-contractor exec, or industry advocate either. I guess I'll always be just a flyboy.”

“You're a leader, that's what you are, my friend,” Phoenix said. “Always will be. That's what we need in Washington.”

“I don't know, sir. Lots of fun things happening at Sky Masters again, and my son likes his school.”

“I know, Patrick,” Phoenix said. “But Bradley is a tough Air Force brat, and Washington is good for kids. I have a feeling you'll be back soon. When things settle down, let's sit down and talk.”

“Roger that, sir,” Patrick said. “Good luck, sir.”

“Thanks, Patrick. You take care, General. See you soon.” And he hung up.

A short time later, the limousine arrived at the East Portico of the Capitol Building, amid tight security keeping back thousands of cheering onlookers. Phoenix and his family were met by Dr. Ann Page, and they embraced, which only energized the crowd even more. “You ready to do this thing, Madam Vice President?” Phoenix asked.

“You bet I am, Mr. President,” Ann replied. “Let's do it.” Tak
ing each other's hand, with Phoenix taking his wife's hand and Ann taking Phoenix's daughter's hand, they ascended the east steps of the Capitol.

Once through the Columbus Doors and into the Rotunda, they met with several of the distinguished guests who would be in attendance for the oath of office on the West Portico of the Capitol: several former defense secretaries and chiefs of staff, plus former vice president Les Busick and former presidents Thomas Thorn and Kevin Martindale and their families. After they greeted each other, they proceeded across the Rotunda to the West Portico.

Ann embraced Ken one last time before she walked out. “I'm so scared,” she admitted as they embraced.

“I am, too, Ann,” Ken said. “But we're it now.”

She stepped back and smiled. “Damn right we are, Mr. President,” she said. “Damn right.”

Phoenix took his wife's and son's hands while his wife held their daughter's, and they waited for their cue to emerge onto the West Portico. They could hear the roaring crowd outside and feel the unusual January warmth through the doors.

Holy God help me, he thought as he smiled at the sunshine and listened to the cheering crowd…I'm it.

H
ENDERSON
, N
EVADA

T
HAT SAME TIME

Patrick McLanahan put his arm around Gia, and she snuggled closer to him—until he tightened his arm too much across her back, causing her to wince in pain. “Sorry, sweetie,” he said. “Didn't mean it. Still sore, huh?”

“That's okay, lover,” Gia Cazzotta said. She snuggled closer, and he kept his arm safely on the back of the couch. Patrick's son, Bradley, looked over at his dad's girlfriend in concern. “That was Ken?”

“Yes.” They were watching the inauguration of Kenneth Phoenix on television from McLanahan's condo south of Las Vegas. “He still wants me in Washington.”

“You just talked with the new president, Dad?” Bradley asked.

“Yep.”

“Cool.”

“He wants to talk about going back to Washington, Brad,” Patrick said. “How about it? Feel like going back to Washington again for a while?”

“I don't know, Dad,” Bradley said. “I'll be on the varsity squad next year, and…and…”

“You forgot about Heather, Dad,” Gia reminded him with a smile.

“Who?”

“Dad
…
”

“The cheerleader?”

“No!”

“That was last month, Patrick,” Gia said.

“She's my lab partner,” Bradley said. “We're building that telescope. Remember? Can we leave after the school year's out?”

“We'll talk about it,” Patrick said.

At that moment Central Intelligence Agency senior scientific programs analyst Timothy Dobson came into the room, his face wearing a smile but his body language saying otherwise. “Hey, Timothy,” Gia greeted him, “come to watch the inauguration with us?”

“Sure,” Dobson said.

But Patrick studied his face and immediately got up and walked him into the kitchen. “What's up, Tim?” he asked.

“The FBI picked up on another team that came through McCarran International today,” the CIA assistant director said in a low voice. “Both Ukrainian nationals. Registered in the consulate as employment and training consultants for the Ukrainian government, but verified by the CIA as Russian Federal Security Bureau agents. It's the second team to come through this area in a week.” Patrick looked over at his son with Gia, enjoying the pageantry of a presidential inauguration. “I'm sorry, General, but the Agency says it's a high probability you've been targeted by the FSB. We've got to relocate you.”

“When?”

Dobson took in a long breath, then let it out quickly and said, “Yesterday, sir.” He saw Patrick's shoulders slump. “President Phoenix has been advised, and he'd be as pleased as punch if you came back to the Washington area. President Martindale wants to meet with you, too. He says he'll set you up any way you want.”

Now Patrick realized what Phoenix had meant by “I have a feeling you'll be back soon”—he'd already had the briefing and was suggesting an alternate home. As much as Patrick thought he knew the inner workings of Washington, he reminded himself, he found he actually knew very, very little.

Just as Ann Page was beginning to recite the oath of office, Patrick came back into the living room and pressed the “MUTE” button on the TV remote. Gia and Bradley turned to him, but they both looked at his worried face and didn't say a word.

“We have to talk about the move, guys,” Patrick McLanahan said somberly. “We have to talk.”

A major source of information on living and working in space was from the book
Sky Walking
(New York: Smithsonian Books, 2006), written by four-time Shuttle mission specialist, fellow B-52 veteran, Fox News space commentator, and friend Thomas D. Jones. Thanks for your great work, TJ.

As always, the mistakes are all mine.

Your comments are welcome at [email protected]! I read all e-mails and respond to as many as I can. Please visit my Web site at www.AirBattleForce.com for the latest info on my novels, upcoming interviews and events, and my occasional rants about flying, geopolitics, foreign affairs, and almost everything else under the stars!