Sedition (A Political Conspiracy Book 1) (12 page)

Felicia was sitting in a room outfitted for remote television interviews. In front of her was a television camera with a small monitor directly underneath the lens. She could see herself and the anchor with whom she was speaking by looking just beneath the camera.

Behind her was a large oak bookshelf containing a handful of books and a potted plant. The bookshelf sat over her right shoulder, screen left. To the right of the screen there was a large corn plant, which added some depth and color. The lighting was excellent. The Speaker looked fresh and awake.

“Madam Speaker,” the newsman said in an incredibly affected anchor voice, his delivery nasal and pompous sounding, “we all know Secretary Blackmon was confirmed by both the senate and by the legislative body you lead. So you, yourself, are okay with him becoming vice president. Why not step aside and allow him to become president? Why put the country through an extended, painful court case? Why not do what’s best for a grieving country and allow it to move forward?”

It was more a statement followed by a series of opinions than it was a question. The Speaker handled it with aplomb. She laughed and looked down to the right before answering. It was a tic she’d adopted from former President Barack Obama, who always affected the same reaction to questions he did not like.

“Joe, that’s more than one question to answer,” she said. “But I will be happy to address each one. As for ‘stepping aside’, that’s not really a decision for me to make. As a believer in our constitution and US Code, I am required to follow the laws set forth by my predecessors. I would be derelict to ignore them.

“You also asked,” she added, the smile waning, “why I would put the country through a painful court case. I am not the one who filed the injunction. That question might be better suited for Secretary Blackmon. Though I suggest it’s a question laced with opinion and probably not fair to ask him either.

“And finally,” she said, her eyes bright and knowing, “without repeating your question, I will tell you that I
am
helping our great nation move forward. My fantastic team, along with those of Secretary Blackmon and President Foreman, are in constant contact. We are doing the business of the people, and while we grieve our loss, our government is in good hands.”

“Okay, Madam Speaker,” Joe said, placing his hands on the news desk and leaning in, “but you didn’t answer my question as to why you oppose the Secretary’s claim to the presidency, given that the House and the Senate voted in favor of his confirmation. I mean, seriously, Madam Speaker, we’re talking about a technicality here. Had President Foreman lived twelve more hours, Secretary Blackmon would have been sworn in, right?” He smirked and then sat back to await her answer.

Felicia kept her cool despite wanting to jump through the screen and backhand the smug, blow-dried goober of a man. “Actually, Joe, you
didn’t
ask me that question. You merely stated it as fact without asking me to respond. Instead you asked me three other questions which I answered directly and succinctly. Once again, you have stated what you believe to be the facts and have asked me an unrelated question.”

The Speaker paused to gauge whether or not the anchor would interrupt her. When he didn’t, she continued. “If President Foreman were still alive, we wouldn’t be having a conversation about anyone assuming the office.”

“So let’s shift gears slightly,” the anchor countered, failing to press the point. “Why would you make a better president than Secretary Blackmon?”

“Wow, Joe”—her eyes widened as she considered the question—“that’s a surprisingly inappropriate question. But,” she reasoned, “it’s irrelevant. My colleague and I are not running for office. We are on the same team. The question is who, constitutionally, should take the oath. It’s a legal question and not a political one. I think the American people feel the same way. I don’t presume to know the collective thought of our citizens, but I do know that President Foreman was beloved. I do know he is missed. Questions about who should succeed him are best left to the courts.”

“Point taken, Madam Speaker,” the anchor acknowledged. “But I do want to know why the American people should feel comfortable with you at the helm. What can you do to assure them that you are qualified?”

Again, the Speaker felt the bile rise in her throat, sickened by his persistence on this point. He wanted her to bash Blackmon. He was trying to goad her into saying something inflammatory. She would not oblige.

“Qualified?” She looked down and laughed again. “That’s the easiest question you’ve asked me today, Joe.”

“How is that?” His eyebrows furrowed and he pursed his lips.

“I am a natural born citizen of the United States. I’ve lived here for at least fourteen years. I’m at least thirty-five years old, though I beg you, Joe, to not press me on my exact age.” She smiled as she rattled off the presidential qualifications as they were listed in Article II, Section I of the constitution.

“All right, very good, Madam Speaker,” the anchor conceded. “If you don’t want to answer my questions, then—” He was about to end the interview when Felicia determined she’d had enough of his rude asides.

“Wait a minute, Joe,” she interrupted. “What questions have I failed to answer?”

“You don’t want to tell the American people why you’re a better fit for the office,” he stated. “You can’t tell us why you’re qualified.”

His nasality was incredibly annoying to the Speaker. She had a nearly overwhelming urge to shove an endoscope up his nose and clean him out without the use of anesthetics.

“Joe,” her tone softened, “maybe your earpiece is malfunctioning and you can’t hear me. Can you hear me, Joe?”

“Yes, Madam Speaker, I can hear you.” His smug grin had disappeared.

“Good.” She leaned to the camera and slowed the cadence of her speech as though she were speaking to someone who could not easily follow English. “My quali-fi-ca-tions and those of Se-cre-tary Black-mon, a-side from our a-ges and na-tion-al-i-ty, are not at is-sue. This is a con-sti-tu-tion-al ques-tion. I know the American people agree with me on this. We are not campaigning, Joe. We are preserving the continuity of our government.”

“Thank you for the civics lesson, Madam Speaker.” The anchor rolled his eyes on camera and then turned to face another camera in his studio. Felicia was no longer on camera when he thanked her for taking the time to appear on the show. “Next on the program this morning, we will hear from the other politician at the center of this debate, Secretary of Veterans Affairs John Blackmon.”

The Speaker glanced down at the monitor beneath the camera to assure she was no longer on camera and summoned her Chief of Staff with a wave.

“Is this mic off for now?” she asked nobody in particular. “How long before the next interview, and how many more do we have?”

“Five minutes before our next and last interview,” replied the aide. Someone behind the camera informed the Speaker the microphone was off.

The Speaker pointed at the Chief of Staff. “Two things,” she said.

Her voice was barely above a whisper, but she might as well have been screaming. Her hand was pressed against her lapel to dampen the microphone’s ability to pick up her voice, just in case.

“One,” she instructed, her face reddening, “I will not do another interview with that man. Never! Do not book me. Do not ask me. I can handle tough questions. I can handle fair questions. That was a hose job. Understood?”

The chief nodded and whispered, “Yes.” He took a pen to the scheduling sheet he was cradling and made a note of her directive.

“Two,” she continued with her finger just inches from his face, “I thought I told you to make sure we knew who was getting Blackmon. You didn’t give me that information. Not good. Are we recording him so we can respond to his points if necessary?”

“Yes,” replied the chief. “We’re recording the entirety of all of the morning shows. We’ll have copies of everything. I’ve told the staff to transcribe your interviews and any conducted with Blackmon.” He stepped back out of range of her finger.

She dropped her hand to her side and turned to look at herself in the monitor underneath the camera. It helped her primp between segments. A makeup person was standing by to refresh the powder on her forehead, nose, and cheeks.

“C’mon, man,” she said without turning back to the chief. “This is politicking one-oh-one. You know this. If you can’t keep up, I need you to tell me now. Can you keep up? Is this too much?”

“No,” he responded. “I mean, yes, I can keep up. No, it’s not too much.”

“Good, then,” she replied and pressed her lips together. “Turn my mic back on, please. Let’s do this last interview and move on with the day.”

Chapter 19

“Harrold, this is good.” The supervisor was leaning back in his chair with his left leg crossed over his right. He was reading the report she’d generated from her phone interviews with the asset. “What made you assume the mechanism is Semtex?” He peeked over the top of the document.

“It’s there in the report, sir.” She half nodded toward it. “I detailed the conversation.”

“Yes.” He leaned forward and uncrossed his leg, his tone agitated and almost whiny. “But what made you draw the conclusion? It’s quite a leap.”

“That’s somewhat complicated, sir.”

“Try me.” He dropped the paper onto the desk and squared himself to face Matti.

“I began by making certain assumptions.” She exhaled. “First, the asset was clear people
would
die. That’s a very careful choice of words. So that rules out, in my mind, hostage situations or anything that involves the possibility of targeted survivors.”

“Go on…”

“Then there was the short rant about patriotism and terrorism. I thought that was somewhat revealing in that terrorists tend to use high-powered weapons and/or explosives. There is the possibility of poison or gas, as was the 1995 case with the AUM Shinrikyo attack on the Tokyo subway. They used sarin in that case.”

The pieces were fitting together.

Matti sucked in another breath and continued. “But the mention of the bombing of Pan Am flight 103 was an unusual reference point, so I quickly checked information on that attack. I found the suspected explosive used was Semtex.” She gauged her supervisor’s expression. It was blank, almost as though he were still processing what she’d said.

“Hmmph.” He leaned back and pulled the papers from the desk. “Interesting.”

She could tell he wasn’t going to give her any additional credit. Matti drew the conclusion he was actually
disappointed
in her ability to exceed his expectations.

“Is there anything you did not include in the report?”

“Yes.” Matti cleared her throat. “He invited me to an art exhibit opening tonight.”

“What do you mean?” He dropped the papers again and his eyes narrowed.

“As you know, one of the conspirators is an artist. He has an opening tonight.” She sat up straight, her hands folded in her lap. “The asset suggested I might be better able to assess the threat by attending the event. All of the players are planning to attend.”

“How would this help you?”

“This is HUMINT,” she reasoned. “I am better off analyzing what the asset reveals about the plot if I’m able to observe the conspirators’ interactions with one another.”

“And they can observe you.”

“I suppose,” she conceded.

She watched him think about the pros and cons of the proposal. Were the potential gains mitigated by the possible losses? He folded his arms and swiveled in his chair and didn’t speak for several minutes.

“Okay.” He nodded. “For observation only. Do not engage the subjects.”

“Yes, sir.” Matti tried to conceal her excitement, resisting the smile creeping from her lips.

“Before you go,” the supervisor cautioned, “get some sleep. Buy a dress. You look like hell.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, offended at his insensitivity but too pleased with his decision to let it sting. She stood and thanked him again before leaving.

As soon as she’d shut the door behind her, the supervisor was on his secured line, dialing a series of numbers. He tapped his hand on the desk as he awaited an answer.

The supervisor was hurried. There were developments. There were arrangements to make.

Chapter 20

Bill Davidson wasn’t much for watching television. While he was often on the tube, he rarely found the time or inclination to participate as a viewer. But when he received a “Breaking News Alert” email from
The
New York Times
, he decided to find the nearest set and watch the developments. It happened to be inside the lobby of the Capital Hilton, two blocks from the White House.

Given the hotel’s proximity to the seats of power in central Washington, DC, Davidson had imbibed frequently at the Statler Lounge inside the hotel. He loved its private, orange-curtained seating areas. The bar was a tribute to the hotel’s original name, the Statler Hotel. It was built in 1943 and was historically significant in that it was one of the few hotels built during World War II.

He walked past the doorman and straight to the television mounted on the wall near the concierge. The volume was low, but he could hear it as he approached.

“The District Court has sided with Secretary Blackmon’s case and has granted the injunction,”
explained the reporter standing outside the Perryman Courthouse.
“This means that Speaker of the House Felicia Jackson is stopped from taking the presidential oath. Her team has already responded with an appeal. It is a foregone conclusion this is headed for the Supreme Court, should the justices agree to hear the arguments. It is most likely they will, given the constitutional implications on each side of this case.”

Davidson checked his phone again. It was buzzing against his hip. Another “Breaking News Alert”. This one was from the “editors of
PlausibleDeniability.info
” and also reported the District Court’s ruling. He looked back at the television.

“We’ve also learned,”
the reporter said breathlessly, lending to the sense of urgency he was trying to manufacture,
“President Foreman will lie in state in the Capitol Rotunda beginning tomorrow afternoon until his burial the following day. His memorial service will be that evening. The public will have a chance to pay their respects after the memorial.”