Germantown, Maryland
Two years before the day of
David held their front door open for Kelly. She stepped outside, focused on the Mercedes. “Wow, nice ride. Beats the hell out of my Prius.”
Charles, who had been simultaneously watching the road and the front of David’s house, walked to the passenger side of the car and opened the rear door.
“Kelly, this is Mr. Crum. Charles. He’ll be watching out for us tonight,” David said.
Kelly smiled and thrust out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Crum. May I call you Charles?”
“Yes, Mrs. Stakley, Charles is just fine.” Charles shook Kelly’s hand.
Kelly nodded at the car. “I was just admiring the Maybach. Is this the V-twelve version of the S650?”
“Yes, it’s the six-liter V-twelve, six hundred twenty-one horsepower,” Charles replied casually. “She will get you there in style and, if need be, quickly.”
David followed Kelly into the back seat. “My wife is something of a car buff. Especially the ones we can’t afford.” He fastened his seat belt. “Tell me, Charles: SEAL? Ranger? Marine?”
“Army Special Forces, Mr. Secretary, eight years.”
“I sensed it was one of our more elite branches. So, Charles, what all are you cleared to tell me?”
Charles glanced over his shoulder and pulled onto the street. “I am cleared to respond to any question you ask that I have an answer to. I am not cleared to volunteer anything.”
“I gotcha, Charles. I came from an Army Intel background myself. So does the Maybach belong to Envision-2100?”
“No, sir. They lease both it and me from Blackwater.”
“Interesting, and I guess not surprising. I suspect that the group wants to keep their big-dollar asset inventory as skinny as possible. I assume you know how to get to the Comus Inn?”
“Yes, sir. Twenty-Three Nine Hundred Old Hundred Road. We should be there in about twenty minutes.”
David and Kelly sank into the luxury of the Maybach’s impossibly soft leather back seats. David leaned closer to Kelly and lowered his voice. “Can I be so bold as to assume you’ve been thinking about what I told you?”
“You can assume I haven’t been thinking of anything else,” Kelly whispered back. “On the one hand, I am, to put it ever so conservatively, surprised. You have never expressed any interest in running for anything. Or at least not to me. And I thought I was privy to just about everything that was going on up there.” Kelly playfully poked the side of David’s head. “And then you come flying into our back yard in a frigging helicopter and tell me a bunch of rich kids wants you to run for the most powerful office. In. The. World.”
David gave her a guilty-as-charged smile.
“On the other hand,” Kelly continued, “you are without a doubt the smartest, most politically adroit man I’ve ever known or read about. So, if I come at it from that angle, it makes me wonder why it took them so long to give you the nod. But what’s with the raging sense of urgency? Matt Sheppard is one of the most popular presidents we’ve had in the last twenty years; he’s doing an admirable job and can still run for another term. What am I missing?”
“Well, to the first question, thank you!” David leaned across the Maybach’s enormous back seat and pecked Kelly on her cheek. She smiled sweetly and put her hand on David’s knee.
“It’s always nice to know that my wife thinks I’ve got at least a little bit of walking-around sense. And I guess some of the Bulldog’s political skills rubbed off on me. At least I haven’t been fired yet. Now back to your question about the urgency and why me and why now.”
Despite his confidence in the privacy afforded by the Mercedes’s back seat and Charles’s discretion, David put his arm around Kelly’s shoulder, drew her face closer to his, and began speaking in a conversational whisper. He told her about the president’s recent cancer diagnosis and his expected imminent demise.
Kelly’s eyes welled up as the news sank in. She had been a fierce supporter during President Sheppard’s election and had grown to admire the man after he took office. Kelly wasn’t a party loyalist and, like David, had zero use for Vice President Phillips, but she worshipped the president and what he had accomplished over the last few years.
David sat up straight and looked out the window. The countryside outside Germantown surrounding the meandering path of the Potomac River and up into Sugarloaf Mountain was a montage of hardwood forest and meticulously maintained farms and horse stables.
They drove past a monastery. The Aung Yadana Monastery, a Myanmar Buddhist temple, was hidden among the oaks and pines just north of Comus Road. Most of the real estate in the area had been snatched up years earlier by Senior Executive Service employees and the staff of government contractors and was now obscenely expensive.
The neatly laid-out pastures and tree-lined farms would typically have made the drive from Kelly and David’s house a pleasant and relaxing break from their pressure-cooker jobs in DC However, tonight they paid scant attention to whatever lay outside the Mercedes’s passenger windows. Kelly was still rebounding from the news David had shared.
“Kelly,” David said softly, “I have a meeting with President Sheppard at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. He wants to discuss his condition and his decision to resign immediately with me face-to—”
“We’re here, Mr. Secretary,” Charles announced.
Charles maneuvered the car to the front of a long, wooden former farmhouse with a muted red metal roof. What was now the Comus Inn had originally been the Johnson-Wolfe Farm, whose construction dated back to 1862. In 2002 a group of local investors bought the building complex and restored it as a fine-dining restaurant.
As soon as the Mercedes stopped, a black male dressed exactly like Charles opened the door on David’s side.
“Good evening, Mr. Secretary. Welcome to the Comus Inn. My name is Lawrence Smith. I’m Mr. Crum’s associate and will be working alongside him as a part of your security team. The restaurant is expecting you, and your table is waiting.”
Except for his skin color, Lawrence was a physically exact copy of Charles. Both were an inch or so over six feet, devoid of body fat, and immaculately dressed in perfectly tailored black wool suits.
Blackwater must get a volume discount on custom-made clothes, David thought as he helped Kelly out of the Maybach’s back seat.
“Let me guess, Lawrence: Special Forces?” David asked.
“No, sir. Marine Recon.”
David glanced at Kelly and grinned. “You know, I almost wish someone would try to mug us tonight.”
Lawrence led David and Kelly up the porch steps and into the inn’s reception area. A beaming, twentysomething hostess stepped out from behind the reservation podium. “Welcome, Mr. Secretary. It’s good to see you again. We have a table already set up for you on the back corner of the veranda.”
David and Kelly followed the bubbly hostess as she snaked through the main dining room to a long, somewhat narrow room at the back of the inn.
Six tables with place settings for four aligned the floor-to-ceiling windows of the room, with its unobstructed view of Sugarloaf Mountain. Three couples and two parties of four were already seated. The hostess ushered David and Kelly toward the last table, tucked away in the far corner.
As they made their way to their designated table, people from two of the other tables greeted David, who stopped and shook hands with them and their dinner companions. It was getting harder and harder for David and Kelly to share an intimate night on the town. Soon it would be impossible.
When they arrived at the table, a young male wearing a white shirt, black slacks, a black bow tie, and a burgundy vest, with a burgundy napkin draped across his left arm, glided up behind Kelly. As he seated Kelly, the hostess announced, “Mr. and Mrs. Stakley, this is Chris. He will be your attendant this evening. If there is anything you need or anything that any of us can do to make your experience here perfect, and we mean perfect, please let Chris know.”
“Thank you, Madison,” Chris said. “I’ll take good care of them from here on.”
As Madison left, Chris turned to David and Kelly. “Before we begin, I need to let you know that Mr. Elton Kirby and his associates are taking care of everything tonight. He has even suggested the menu, the wine, and dessert—if they meet with your approval. Of course, you are more than welcome to make your own choices, but his instructions are to make sure you are nothing short of impressed.”
David looked at Kelly and then turned back to Chris. “Since there’s nothing on the menu that we don’t love, and since Elton and his posse never fail to amaze me, I think as long as it’s agreeable with my wife, we’ll follow his suggestions for dinner. Except for dessert. We have dessert waiting for us when we get home.”
Kelly offered a nod of approval. “That sounds fantastic, Chris. At least that’s one less decision we have to struggle with tonight.”
“In that case, let me start you off with the wine that Mr. Kirby selected.”
Chris nodded at another attendant standing near the veranda entrance, who picked up a tray with wine and glasses. Chris turned his attention back to David and Kelly. “The wine is a 2018 Bordeaux from Domaine de Chevalier, Grand Cru Pessac.”
The assistant gently placed a long-stemmed crystal glass in front of Kelly, then David.
“We were able to get a single case of this a year ago.” Chris opened the bottle. “We only offer it to special guests, and only then for special occasions. It’s unbelievable, but don’t fall in love with it. I’m afraid that after this bottle the 2018 batch is gone.”
He poured a small amount of wine into David’s glass and said simply, “Sir.”
David swirled the pour and took a tiny sip. He let it roll across his tongue, then pursed his lips and breathed in slightly through his mouth. David was no sommelier but knew what he liked. This was smooth with just a hint of what he recognized as oak and cherry. “This is incredible.”
“Perfect,” Chris said as the assistant filled Kelly’s glass. “I guarantee you will also be impressed with the dinner selection. Mr. Kirby has suggested the Chef’s Tasting, a seven-course dinner featuring cuisine made to order by our executive chef. It’s only available three nights a week, and each night, he prepares a different combination of dishes.”
“Thank you, Chris,” David replied. “It looks like we are in your hands for the next hour or so.”
As Chris left to begin their dinner service, David shifted his chair closer to Kelly. “As I was saying before we had to get out of the car, I have a one-on-one meeting with the president in the morning. According to Judson, Matt wants to personally let me know about his condition and his plans to resign immediately. Judson said he also wants to ask me to run for POTUS and to pledge his support for my doing so, and on the Centrist Party ticket.”
David moved his glass to the right, then reached out and lightly placed his hand over his wife’s.
“Kelly, this whole thing is unprecedented on so many levels. But we have to decide tonight. I have to be ready to give the president a thumbs-up or -down when I meet with him in the morning. If I say no, the case is closed. We go about our lives and our careers as if nothing ever happened. We drive to the grocery store, buy clothes off the rack, and eat at Cheeburger Cheeburger, just like we’ve been doing for the last five years. However, if I say yes, our lives are turned upside down. Win or lose, things will never be the same.
“The campaign will be intense. Every word either of us says and every move we make will be splashed on CNN and FOX, taken out of context, analyzed by a dozen talking heads, and tucked away for future reference. Right now, I’m as happy as a monkey with a peanut machine. I love the life we’re living, and I’m not the least bit sure that I want to change it. On the other hand . . .” David’s voice trailed off, and he locked a conflicted gaze on Kelly’s eyes.
Just then, Chris and his assistant appeared. Chris placed two small plates, each containing a sliver of farmer’s bread, two oval slices of duck sausage, and a dollop of scrambled eggs and truffles in front of his guests. As he did so, his assistant poured a splash of wine into each glass.
“Your appetizers, like everything you will be served tonight, were made from scratch today. The eggs and the duck are free-range from right here on our farm. The only thing that isn’t local is the wheat in the bread and the truffles, which we import from a small estate in France. Bon appétit.”
Chris and his assistant made a hasty retreat.
Kelly leaned forward. “David, there are three hundred million people in this country, give or take a few hundred thousand illegals. I’m not going to sit here and let you talk yourself out of an opportunity that ninety percent of them have fantasized about. Not once have you shared any political aspirations with me, and now this drops in your lap. You’ve got to swing at this one, honey. And if you swing and miss, so what? How many times have I heard you quote Theodore Roosevelt? ‘Who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither knew victory nor defeat.’
“And don’t worry your pretty little head about me or changing our lifestyle. We’re in things together. Remember that ‘for better or worse’ thing? Besides, nothing would please me more than to see you slam-dunk Jim Phillips. This could well be our one and only chance to keep him and his posse of lunatics out of the White House.
“Now, eat your duck, drink some wine, and let’s talk about how we’re going to pay our mortgage while you’re running for office.”
David smiled and squeezed Kelly’s hand. He was well attuned to that tone of voice. Argument or resistance was fruitless. Besides, he genuinely wanted his wife not just to support him but to be entirely on board with his unspoken decision to go for the gold. He had been vocalizing his own subconscious fears. She wasn’t afraid of a damn thing.
“Thanks, sweetheart! You can’t imagine how much what you just said means to me. Oh, by the way, I hadn’t got around to telling you that Envision-2100 will pay both of us a generous stipend during the campaign and for quite some time afterward in the event I’m not elected.”
“Well jeez, David, that puts this decision squarely into a no-brainer category. Now, Mr. President, let’s enjoy this feast. This is the best wine I’ve ever had.”
David relayed details of his meeting with Envision-2100, and for the rest of the meal, they discussed some of the countless tasks that lay before them. A tingle of anticipation and excitement prickled David’s skin.
After they had finished the last course, Chris brought each of them a china mug, not the dainty little cups that David was expecting in a restaurant like the Comus. As he poured steaming hot coffee from a polished silver pot, David commented, “So, Chris, you aren’t going to tell me that you guys grow your own coffee beans, are you?”
“No, sir. This is Community Club, from New Orleans, the same brand you can get at Safeway. The chef says he has tried them all, and you can spend a lot more for Starbucks, Seattle’s Best, or some Whole Foods foo-foo variety, but you can’t get anything any better. He pairs the blend to the meal, just like he does the wine.”
David sipped his coffee. “The guy knows what he’s doing. It’s delicious. Not too strong and not the least bit bitter.” He smiled at Chris. “Now, if you’ll bring us our check, we will get out of your hair.”
“Everything has been taken care of, Mr. Secretary, including the gratuity. It’s been our pleasure to serve you and Mrs. Stakley. I hope we have exceeded your expectations.”
“Indeed, you have, Chris,” Kelly interjected. “Personally, this was the nicest dining experience I’ve ever had.”
As they got up to leave, David noticed Lawrence sitting at a small table situated beside the veranda entrance. Lawrence stood up the instant that David got out of his chair. He scanned the other diners as the Stakleys made their way out of the room. When David and Kelly drew near his post, Lawrence joined them. He walked two steps in front and, as the hostess opened the restaurant entrance, led them outside, where Charles was waiting, holding the rear passenger door open.
Once David and Kelly were in the car, Charles slipped behind the wheel and Lawrence climbed into the front passenger seat.
“I take it you two have been working as a team all evening,” David said.
“Yes, sir,” Lawrence replied. “Charles dropped me off on his way to your house. Whenever possible, we follow that method: at least one advance scout and at least one escort. Unless you tell us otherwise, we’ll be your ‘in public’ shadow for the foreseeable future. Except when we’re driving you somewhere, you’ll most likely never see us. But Charles and I, or one of our associates, will be close at hand anytime you are outside your home or office.”
Fifteen minutes later, they arrived home. Charles stopped the Mercedes at the front entrance, and Lawrence escorted the couple to the door. He handed David two small cell phones. “We ask that you accept these communication and tracking devices. One for each of you. If you ever need Charles or me, or our backup team, just enter two one zero zero. It will automatically call the dispatcher at Blackwater HQ, indicate your location, and connect you to the appropriate SO—security operator. It’s encrypted, so even if its signal is intercepted or monitored, your conversation and location can’t be understood or tracked.”
“Thank you, Lawrence.” David took the phones and unlocked the front door of his home with an electronic cipher key. “I’ve got about a million questions, but they can wait. Right now, I’ve got to prepare for a meeting, and I have another call to make.”
Lawrence nodded. “Good night, Mr. Secretary, Mrs. Stakley. I hope you enjoyed the evening. It has been a pleasure.”
“The pleasure is ours, Lawrence. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” Kelly stepped inside.
“Good night, Lawrence. We appreciate what you and Charles are doing for us.” David shook Lawrence’s hand and followed Kelly inside, locking the door.
David found Kelly in the kitchen. As he opened the box of coconut cake Mattie had made for him, Kelly popped a Starbucks pod into their Keurig.
“We’ve got to get some of that Community Club coffee. That stuff was delicious.” Kelly’s remarks sounded somewhat offhand, as if her mind was elsewhere. “What’s this phone call you were telling Lawrence you have to make this evening?”
David sliced the cake and slid the slices onto dessert plates, which he laid on the kitchen’s breakfast table. “I promised Judson I would call him with a decision, one way or the other, after you and I had a chance to talk.” David pulled Kelly’s chair back as she walked to the table with their coffee. After they were both seated, he got out his iPhone.
“Are we going to eat our cake first, David?” Kelly quizzed with just a tiny hint that they were breaching her rules of cellphone etiquette.
“No, we can eat while we are talking. This shouldn’t take long, and I want to get it behind me before either of us changes our mind. Sort of like when Hernán Cortés and his fleet landed in Veracruz. He ordered his men to burn their boats so they could get about the task of conquering Mexico and wouldn’t be trying to find an excuse to go back to Spain.”
“You read too much, David,” Kelly remarked with her dry humor. “Wow! This cake is scrumptious. Forget the presidency. Let’s hire that lady and open a bakery.”
David raised his phone. “Siri, call Judson Ballard, on speaker.”
A pleasing, yet also somewhat creepy, voice responded: “Calling Judson Ballard, mobile, on speaker.”
Taking advantage of a three-ring pause, David and Kelly munched bites of cake. As they were sipping their coffee, Judson’s voice rang out.
“If my caller ID is accurate, this is the future president of the United States.”
“And his wife,” David instantly replied.
“An unexpected surprise, Kelly. I look forward to meeting you in the flesh, and hopefully in the very, very near future. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“All good, I hope,” Kelly responded.
“Well, of course. In fact, I can’t wait to see if you really do have wings and a halo. So, David, you haven’t actually said you were in the game.”
“First of all, Judson, thank you for everything you have done for me today, from the flying limousine to what turned out to be the most fantastic dinner we have ever had. You’ve made Kelly and me feel exceptional, so thank you from the very bottom of our hearts.
“Yes, we discussed my candidacy. Not so much the details but what it means and how it will impact our lives. To say that we are both apprehensive would be to state the glaringly obvious. But to answer your question: yes. You, Envision-2100, and the Centrist Party have got themselves a presidential candidate.”
“That’s without a doubt the best news I’ve had in a long time, David. You shouldn’t worry about the details. Not tonight. We’ve already started pulling a team together to handle those, starting tomorrow. But it’s getting late, you have a meeting in the Oval Office in the morning, and I have a long list of stuff to do running through my brain. Let’s plan to talk tomorrow after your meeting with POTUS.”