CHAPTER

13

 

The Judge rose before six on Sunday, as he did every morning. He made a simple breakfast of toast, fruit, and juice, then took a walk along the winding road around his property. He appreciated the fact that he and Jefferson Vandermeer had apparently shared a fondness for quiet walks. The Judge enjoyed the rustling in the trees, the sounds of the birds, the smell of fresh honeysuckle.

After half an hour, he headed back to the house and wandered into his study. He read for two hours, part of a new Thomas Jefferson biography, then turned on the television to catch the Sunday-morning talk circuit.

Out of habit, he checked all four of his cable networks, including the flagship HNC, then settled in to watch what the competition was doing. On NBC, announcements had been running all week promoting Meet the Press, in which David Gregory would spend a full hour with the president. Gregory had already given his introduction, and the camera pulled back to a long shot of the two men sitting in the Oval Office.

President James Harwell looked presidential. He was tall and broad-shouldered in his mid-fifties, with pure silver hair and brown eyes that could be by turns empathetic and unwavering. A Connecticut native with roots dating back to before the American Revolution, he was a self-made millionaire, a skilled politician, and by all accounts, a terrible leader. Halfway through his second term, his administration had been a series of missteps almost from day one. But he looked the part, which crystallized for the Judge one of the most critical shortfalls of today’s America: politicians with no substance and who refused to govern. Further proof of the need for the Glory Warriors

“Mr. President,” Gregory said, “there are those who say America is in a time of national crisis. Our Middle East problems continue to be unstable, with no end in sight. The economy is still feeling the effects of the deepest recession in nearly thirty years. Health care costs continue to rise unchecked, despite the reforms that have been put into place. Terrorism is everywhere—a pipe bomb on a train in Atlanta, a carload of explosives at a mall in Minneapolis, snipers on the freeway in Los Angeles. And now the Speaker of the House has been shot and killed.”

Harwell waited a moment, then saw that Gregory was finished. “Was there a question in there, David?”

“I could go on. Even the federal judiciary has been rocked with scandal in recent months, allegations of judges taking bribes from powerful corporate interests. Sir, the America we know is changing right before our eyes, and a great many Americans don’t seem to like it. Our latest NBC News poll shows that seventy-six percent of the people disapprove of your job performance. There have been calls for you to resign, some from leaders in your own party. What do you say to them?”

Harwell crossed his legs. “Look, David, I say to them what I’ve been saying all along. We don’t run this nation based on poll numbers. This administration is committed to doing what’s right in sensible and bipartisan ways, to best serve the American people. Our economic-stimulus package is working through Congress now, and I’m confident the Congressional leadership will do what’s right. But progress takes time, David. The American people know that. They elected me twice, and I’ll take that vote of confidence over the poll of the day any time. We’re attacking every problem on every possible front, and yes, it seems like we’ve taken a lot of hits in recent months. But the American people are strong, and their spirit shines through. I take comfort in the words of Euripides—‘Somewhere human misery must have a stop. There is no wind that always blows a storm.’”

“Euripides notwithstanding, Speaker Vandermeer was assassinated when out for his daily walk yesterday. After the vice president, he was next in line for the presidency. What do you say to the American people when the Speaker of the House is assassinated?”

“My thoughts are with Jeff’s family, his daughter Alice, his grandchildren. I knew Jeff Vandermeer for many years and worked with him on a lot of legislation. We didn’t always agree on issues, but he served this country honorably for a long time. I’m holding his family and the people of Wisconsin in my prayers, and I know those who committed the crime will be caught. We will see justice done.”

Gregory leaned forward. “But isn’t the Speaker’s killing just symptomatic of the larger problem in America today?”

Harwell mimicked the host’s motion. “No, David, the Speaker’s killing is symptomatic of some maniac who thought he could make his point through the barrel of a gun.”

“So you believe the Speaker’s assassination was a terrorist act.”

“I believe all violence is a terrorist act. Look, the motivations may be different, but the results are the same. Someone believes they are above the rule of law, and they take matters into their own hands.”

“What do you say to Senator Brenson, third-ranking Senator in your own party? On Wednesday, he said in a New York Times op-ed piece, ‘The president has proven he is incapable of managing the affairs of state, and our country is spiraling out of control under this administration. The president cannot even control his own affairs, it seems. If he truly loves his country, he will step aside while he can still do so honorably.’”

Harwell sat back against the chair. He gave a loose smile. “Dane Brenson is a good man and a good Senator. But if he thinks I am going to walk away from the job the American people hired me to do, then he is sadly mistaken.”

“What about the reference to your own affairs? The Justice Department is continuing its inquiry into fund-raising irregularities from your reelection campaign.”

“The campaign legal team is dealing with it. I broke no state or federal laws, and I’m not going to let it be a distraction to the business of governing.”

The Judge tuned out the rest. He’d heard what he needed to hear. Harwell was responding predictably, and all the good looks and personal charm and wealth in the world couldn’t change the fact that his administration was crashing around him. His Secretary of the Interior had resigned six weeks ago when allegations came to light about his activities when he’d been national co-chair of the reelection campaign. Congress was in open revolt, refusing to deal with any of the president’s programs. Harwell was stuck in political quicksand, and the entire country knew it.

The Judge turned off the television and sat back in silence. The stage was being set for the Glory Warriors. Grant and Lee’s original vision, as articulated at Appomattox, would be realized. Even more important, his father’s vision would become real. He was going to save the country he loved—that his father and grandfather had loved. Everything in the Judge’s life—law, the military, the political system, business—had been about arriving at this point.

At seventy-one, and with his father dead for more than thirty years, the Judge still heard the old man’s voice at times, as clearly as he’d heard the birdsong when he walked around his property earlier. The Judge wondered what his father would think of him now.