“We’re crotch-deep in gasoline, and Meredith’s about to light a match.”
—President J. T. Tower
President Tower was in his Tower, Inc. New York headquarters with his sister, Brenda; Prince Waheed, the Saudi ambassador, and CIA Director Billy Burke. With a face like a basset hound, Burke had a thick paunch that almost popped the buttons on his tightly stretched shirt. He looked like a heart attack waiting to happen. Waheed, in contrast, was slender, athletic, and had a full head of thick jet-black hair and a dark bushy mustache. The two men were sitting on the long silk couch with Brenda, Tower on the big stuffed armchair. Spread out before them on a huge teak coffee table were an extra-large silver coffee carafe, white bone china cups and saucers.
“You wanted to talk about the UN Global Inequality Conference?” President Tower asked Waheed.
“How bad do you think it’s going to get?” the Saudi ambassador, Wahid al-Waheed, asked. “It looks pretty bad back in the Kingdom.”
“As you know, the General Assembly’s on board,” Tower said, “and most of the Security Council.”
“Those new Jules Meredith exposés are inflaming the public even more,” Brenda Tower said. “When her book comes out, there’ll be real uproar. The TV, radio, internet will be on fire, 24/7, with her.”
“So everyone says,” CIA Director Burke confirmed, “except the publisher’s embargoed it, and I can’t find anyone with an advance copy. We really don’t know how bad it’s going to be.”
“I have a source in her publishing house,” President Tower said. “He can’t get his hands on the actual manuscript, but he’s seen reading reports on it. She’s apparently got dirt on all of us.”
“My source says her chapters on your charitable giving are real killers,” Ambassador Waheed said.
“Meredith goes after you in that regard too,” Brenda said to him. “She says in her articles you illegally funnel contributions to us and to the New United Islamist Front through phony charities.”
“Unfortunately,” CIA Director Burke said, “a lot of your Saudi princes do use charities to disguise their payments to terrorist groups, which makes it harder to deny Meredith’s assertions.”
“It’s been money well spent,” Ambassador Waheed said. “You don’t see them blowing up Saudi cities, do you?”
“Europe could take a cue from you,” Tower said.
“We also have enemies at home we have to deal with,” Brenda said diplomatically.
“Look at all the money we spent, primarying our opposition,” CIA Director Burke said. “Most of those bastards aren’t around anymore.”
“Ask any of those legislators who fucked with us,” President Tower said.
“Where are Eric Cantor and Dick Lugar today?” Burke asked with a cynical grin.
“Giving Rotary Club speeches and sitting on local school boards,” Tower said.
Again, the room exploded with mocking laughter.
“But I also know Meredith and the Democrats want to expose us,” Brenda said, “and will do anything to take us down.”
Burke got up, walked over to Tower, and put his arm around his shoulders.
“Fuck ’em,” Burke said. “We can ride it out. People have written exposés about us before, and nothing happened.”
“Meredith is different,” Brenda said. “The times are different. We have the UN and the U.S. Congress on us as well.”
“We’re crotch-deep in gasoline, and Meredith’s about to light a match,” Tower said.
“She comes up with dirt on us we didn’t even know existed,” Ambassador Waheed said.
“What’s most troubling is her sources,” Director Burke said. “She knows everything we do. J. T., remember your last presidential election? She knew when, where, why and how Putilov fed me your opponent’s campaign emails and precisely how he and I used them to embarrass the woman, skew the election’s results and hand you the White House. It scares me that she knows so much about us, and no one knows where and how she gets that info.”
“And you’re the head of the CIA!” Brenda snorted.
“How does she get her info?” the president asked. “I think she’s even managed to bug some of our meetings.”
“All I know is she’s got some big swinging cojones on her, fucking with you, Jim, and with us,” Director Burke said.
“Most people think of Big Jim Tower,” Brenda agreed, “and their nuts shrivel right up into their assholes.”
“In deference to your sister,” Ambassador Waheed said, clearing his throat, “I have to point out women don’t have cojones, balls or testicles of any sort.”
“Meredith may be one who tests that rule,” Burke said.
“Even though she’s hellfire-hot,” Tower grumbled under his breath.
“Hot or not,” Ambassador Waheed said, “she’s still pissing where we eat.”
“And defecating in our nest,” Director Burke concurred.
“Jim,” Ambassador Waheed said, “we have to find a way to stop her.”
“I’m working on it,” Tower said. “I intend to stop her cold.”