Brad Thor - Takedown

“Yes, sir,” replied Harper flatly.

“Good. Now go get the Visqueen.”

THE WHITE HOUSE

I know you’re distraught over Amanda’s surgery, but you can’t be serious. Tell me you’re not serious,” pleaded Charles Anderson.

“I couldn’t be more so, Chuck,” replied the president.

The chief of staff threw his hands up in defeat. “Of course you are! You’ve declared war on Islam, and then you fired the Secretary of Homeland Security. A trip to New York with the terrorists still at large would be the icing on the cake. It’ll be a public relations trifecta. Should I get Geoff in here to draft a release?”

“First of all, I didn’t declare war on Islam. We’ve already been through that. Secondly, I didn’t fire Driehaus;he resigned.”

“No, you didn’t fire him, but you didn’t prevent him from resigning either.”

“Semantics. What difference does it make?”

“It makes a lot of difference to you, to this presidency. I’d also make the case that to have him step down in the middle of all this erodes public confidence in our government.”

“That certainly wasn’t the case when the FEMA director bowed out in the aftermath of Katrina.”

“The key word there, Mr. President, is aftermath. Besides, the FEMA chief was inept and everyone knew it. I think letting Driehaus go in the middle of a horrific national crisis is a very bad idea.”

“The hell it is, Chuck. DHS isn’t working, and we all know it. I’m not going to let Alan Driehaus bully this office. He calls himself a patriot? Well, let me tell you something. A patriot doesn’t pull petty political gamesmanship in the middle of a crisis. You put your personal problems aside and you put the welfare of your country above all else. He couldn’t do that, so he’s out.”

Anderson thought about it. “Maybe there is a way we can use his resignation to our advantage. Anyone with half a brain will read between the lines and believe he resigned because he mishandled the terrorist threat. That could work for us.”

“No way,” said Rutledge. “We’re not going to throw Driehaus to the wolves just to divert attention away from what happened.”

“Why not? You think the American people wanted accountability after 9/11? They’re going to be packing the streets demanding a lot more than accountability this time. They’re going to want blood, and plenty of it.”

“And why shouldn’t they? Their government has failed to protect them, again.”

“So why shouldn’t Driehaus be the first one to the guillotine? With each one we throw them, the bloodlust will ebb.”

“Or it’ll surge. Blood is a funny thing, Chuck-especially in politics. Once people get a taste of it, they often want more and more and more. So we’re not throwing anyone under the bus yet. I’m going to personally call for full and open hearings when the dust has settled. I want total transparency. The American people are going to agree to nothing less. It’s the only thing that is going to help restore the sacred trust because I’ll tell you what, today that trust has been utterly shattered. Now let’s get working on my visit to New York. I want us to be under way ASAP.”

“With all due respect, sir-”

“She’s my daughter, for Christ’s sake, Chuck. This is what fathers do.”

“Fathers maybe, but not presidents, sir.”

Rutledge wasn’t going to be swayed. “ASAP.”

“Fine,” said Anderson, the resignation in his voice thick with sarcasm. “Should we use Air Force One or do you want me to see if the tooth fairy is flying up that way? I think we may actually have her cell phone number.”

“Watch it, Chuck. Not only does my daughter need me, the American people need to see their president in New York City.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I agree with you, but all of this should and will be put together in due time. Right now we can’t even get the National Guard into Manhattan. The terrorists have the entire island locked down, including the air space. How are we supposed to accomplish what even our military can’t do at this point?”

“That’s not my problem. It’s yours. Talk to the Secret Service.”

“I don’t need to talk to the Secret Service. I already know what they’ll say. In fact, wait a second.” Opening the door, Anderson stuck his head into the hall and said, “Carolyn, can you come here a moment, please?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Anderson. What do you need?” replied the head of Jack Rutledge’s protective detail as she stepped into the doorway.

“The president wants to go to New York City,” stated the chief of staff. “ Manhattan, to be precise.”

“Of course. We’re already starting to plan the logistics.”

“I don’t think you understand. The president wants to go now. Tonight.”

Looking up, Secret Service Agent Carolyn Leonard saw the president’s face and realized he was serious. “I’m sorry, sir, but that’s not possible. Not just yet at least.”

“Why not?” demanded Rutledge.

“It’s a war zone. The fact that the terrorists have snipers with high-powered rifles and RPGs makes it an absolute no-go.”

“What do you want me to do, Carolyn? Sign a release absolving the Secret Service of any and all responsibility should something happen to me?”

“Of course not, sir. I just want you to understand that there’s no way we can guarantee your safety at this point. You’d make too attractive a target, and not only to the terrorists.”

“Are you suggesting there are Americans who would want to harm me?”

“I can’t say for sure, sir. All I know is that the situation on the ground is starting to heat up a bit.”

“Heat up how?” asked the president.

“There are reports that scattered looting and mob violence against immigrants and Arab-Americans has begun.”

Rutledge looked at his chief of staff.

“It’s in the next briefing. I didn’t think you’d want me bring you updates every three minutes. We want to nail down whether these are isolated incidents or if we’re seeing some sort of groundswell,” said Anderson.

Rutledge was not happy with that answer. “All the more reason I should make a direct appeal to the people of New York from New York.”

“Sir,” said Leonard as she tried to suggest a compromise, “we could arrange for you to be someplace, maybe upstate-maybe in the capital-and then take you in to Manhattan once things cool down.”

“Once things cool down? When’s that? A week from now? A month?”

Leonard understood the president’s anger. Everyone was angry right now. The hard thing was directing that anger in the appropriate direction. She knew the president didn’t mean to take it out on her, and she was enough of a professional to let it roll off her back. What she needed to do was to persuade him against making the trip-at least for the time being. “Sir, my job is to advise you of the risks and what course of action the Secret Service feels is best to assure your safety and well-being.”

“And if it were up to you, I’d be locked in a bunker someplace right now.”

“Yes, sir.”

“But it’s not up to you. It’s up to me.”

“That’s correct, sir.”

“Carolyn, my daughter is there.”

“I know, sir, but how do you think it would look to the people of New York if the president could get in to see his daughter when even the National Guard hadn’t been able to make it in yet to help assure order? It might not look like you were truly there for the people of New York City.”

She had a point, and Rutledge knew it. Frustrated, he quietly pounded his fist on top of his desk and then nodded his head. “You’re right.”

“Thank you, Carolyn,” said the chief of staff as he showed her back into the hallway.