| |
––––––––
Wednesday Evening–Washington, DC–9:30 p.m.
Vice President’s Office
Ex-vice president Cliff Baker pours himself an ample shot from a half empty bottle of Makers Mark bourbon whiskey, then fills Mitch Campbell and Jerome Hargrove’s glasses. “This ARC crap cannot stand. Where’s Charles? He’s the tactician. The master strategist. He’ll dream up some legislation to fix this.”
Mitch lifts the glass of whisky to his lips. “Charles is busy with the Japanese. The Minister of Disaster Management is in the city for meetings. We can’t create new legislation. The House and Senate no longer exist. Any new legislation will require support from the Arcadian council. They won’t give up the power they’ve just gained.”
Cliff swirls the brown liquid in his crystal glass and then drinks it bottoms-up. “Screw the Arcadians. I’ll form a new government without them. We still control the military. We have the power.”
Mitch leans back in his chair and takes another sip, then points to Cliff. “Do we control the military? Do we hold power or do the Arcadians? We don’t know who Cruikshank has his hooks into. He has a lot of influence.”
“I’ll schedule a meeting with the leaders of the House and Senate first thing in the morning and get this moving before the Arcadians can make any moves. I’ll make sure we have the military with us. We will reinstate the Constitution before anyone hears about the damned ARC Amendment being signed. What will the Arcadians do, start a war?” Cliff Baker asks.
Jerome Hargrove follows up on Cliff’s idea. “Since we have the opportunity, we can make a few changes to the Constitution. Why have all those amendments, anyway? I mean, bring it up to date. You must admit, some ideas the Arcadians have are intriguing. The Constitution is what three hundred years old? Wait... three hundred years old? That doesn’t sound right.” Without waiting for anyone to respond Jerome uses his VUE to check the age of the document. His fingers flick at the air in front of his face as he types on a screen only he can see.
Mitch acts like he’s about to throw his whiskey glass at Jerome but drinks it instead. He leans toward Cliff and says in a half whisper, “I’d hate to waste good whiskey on the idiot. How did he ever get to be a cabinet member?”
“The party owed his uncle a huge favor. I’ve taken him under my wing. This way, I can always depend on his support. That’s more than I can say for most,” Cliff replies. His band vibrates and dings receiving multiple messages as he leans forward to reach for the whiskey bottle. Seconds later, Mitch receives multiple messages.
Jerome’s calculations are interrupted by incoming messages. He mutters, “Sweet Jesus, Mary, Mother of God. What on Earth happened?” He moves his finger, flipping through images of Perth in his VUE. “They’re dead. Thousands are dead. Oh, my.” He gulps and sobs.
Cliff and Mitch view the images and read the text. They look up from their bands at the same time. Mitch wears a steely face of arrogance. Cliff’s face exhibits shock and disbelief.
“This says there is an active effort by the US Government to cover up a meteor explosion that destroyed Perth. We are the government. We aren’t covering up anything. I didn’t even know...” Cliff is beside himself. “How did things get so out of control?” He swirls the bourbon in his glass and again drinks it all, bottoms-up.
Mitch scowls at Cliff. “That’s right, Cliff, have another shot of whiskey. That’s your answer. Dull your senses to the issues and delay acting, while others take control and manipulate the system to their own ends. You’re all bluster and no muster. Look how that’s turned out. We are no longer the government. You are no longer the vice president. The Arcadians have taken over and you let them do it right under your nose.”
Cliff sinks into his executive chair, clenching the armrests as he realizes Cruikshank has played him the fool. “It’s that evil bastard Cruikshank. He’s always slinking in the shadows, whispering conceit in unsuspecting ears, playing people and the system. Advising the president. My god, the man’s been in senior positions during the past three administrations.”
“Yes. Cruikshank has been a tireless, patient man. Now, he wields the power. Power you allowed to slip through your fingers. You knew the president wasn’t well. I told you to act. So, what will you do about Cruikshank? Bluster? Cry and complain? Or will you muster your allies and act? You’ve lost your chance at the presidency. You’ve lost the country. What will you do about it, Mr. Vice President?”
Cliff stands to show he accepts Mitch’s challenge.
Cliff touches his band and calls the Secret Service command post. “Locate Colonel Cruikshank, Russell Thompson, and any other known Arcadians and arrest them. Search the White House and their personal residences. Put out an APB with DC Police.”
Jerome stops swiping his fingers in the air for a moment. “The president will be with Cruikshank and Thompson.”
Cliff continues. “And if the president is with them, arrest him too.” There is a pause. “Arrest him for treason and the attempted coup of the United States of America. Find them and arrest them all. Call me when it’s done.”
Jerome removes his VUE and stares at Cliff Baker. “How can you arrest the president for a coup of his own government?”
“By signing that damned ARC amendment. It’s treasonous by its very definition,” Cliff yells, fueled by whiskey and adrenaline.
The effects of the toxic mix cause Cliff to stumble, but he steadies himself, putting both hands on the surface of his desk. He glares at Mitch and touches his band to call Tug Grimes, Secretary of Defense.
There’s a long pause as he waits for Tug to answer the call.
Jin knocks on Becky’s door. Becky pulls the door open and steps to the threshold. “Wha... You’re wearing a dress and you did something with your hair,” Jin says, as he gives Becky a slow head-to-toe examination. “I smell perfume. You’re wearing make-up on your–“
“Is it too much? I never do this. This is so not me,” Becky says nervously as Jin stares at her lovingly.
Becky’s lower lips trembles. “I, I just thought tonight could be special. I know it’s stupid. If you don’t like it–“
“Becky, you’re amazing. I am the luckiest guy on Earth.” Jin says, as he wraps his arms around his girl.
Becky embraces Jin. “I know I’m being silly.”
“Shut up and kiss me.” They kiss passionately with wanton lust.
Becky can’t find the words to describe how she feels. She lingers in the warm, soothing contentment of being held in the strong arms of her man, kissing him deeply.
Jin looks into Becky’s eyes. “I never thought this could happen to me. I’m really good at math, but that never got me the girls. Seeing you in the doorway, so beautiful, wanting me, it’s incredible. For the first time in my life I am truly in love.” He pauses and gently kisses Becky’s plump lips, then says, “I’m in love with you.” They kiss deeply.
Becky leads Jin by the hand through her townhouse. They pause at the dining table. “This looks wonderful. Candles and everything. It smells great Beck.”
Becky tugs on Jin’s hand, pulling past the dining room. “No need to rush dinner. I’m taking the day off tomorrow.”
“Oh?” is all Jin can think to say.
As Becky leads him to her bedroom, he says, “I’ll call in sick.”
Dinner is cold, and the candles burned to the wick when they eat, but it’s the best meal they’ve ever had. They finish a bottle of wine and go back to bed.
