“This isn’t the way we operate,” said an exasperated Kantor.
“And this isn’t the usual piece of fluff we turn out,” said Ed testily. “Listen, Josh, calm down, pop a Xanax. Everything’s going to be fine. The next call I place is to the White House, to Stokes’s press guy. You can expect an immediate explosion, with more fireworks to follow. I’m also calling Kozlov’s office in the Kremlin and contacting his fellow Russian oligarchs.”
“Ed, I’ve never heard you so hopped up,” said Kantor. “What are you smoking?”
“Nothing. Just into a sensational story,” said Diamond. “What’s wrong with you, Josh? This isn’t the first time we’ve gone after the White House.”
“But nothing like this,” said Kantor. “Don’t forget how Rather at CBS got his head handed to him for making a mistake about George W. Bush’s service in the Air National Guard.”
“Yeah, he screwed up on one document. But we’ve got scores of documents, and they’re all solid. “
“Ed, in case you’ve forgotten, Stokes is a very different animal than the presidents we’ve had in the past.”
“Are you saying the network won’t broadcast this despite what we’ve got?”
“I’m just saying Stokes is going to play a new kind of hardbalclass="underline" vicious and brutal. You can bet on it. I’m going to alert corporate to what’s up.”
“Be my guest,” said Diamond. He knew there was no way around that. “Tell them it’s going to be a sensational report. The ratings will be sky high. They’ll be delighted.”
“Glad you think so,” said Josh.
Diamond ended the call, took a deep breath, and then punched in the number of Tony Crawford, the White House press secretary.
Twenty minutes later, Crawford scurried into the office of Cliff Dayton, President Stokes’s chief advisor. Three minutes later, they went together to the Oval Office. Standing in front of the white velvet curtains, wearing a dark blue blazer, Stokes was recounting to his son, Ronnie, the meeting he’d just had with the visiting British prince. “He’s a wimp,” said Stokes, “But a sensational wife, let me tell you!”
“Sorry to barge in Mr. President,” said Dayton. “But Tony just got a call. I thought you should know about it immediately.” Stokes looked sharply at Crawford. “So tell me.”
Crawford flushed. “Sir, I just got off the phone with Ed Diamond.”
“Great reporter. Great show.” Stokes commented. “Been on it twice. Everyone said I was great.”
“Diamond says he’s going on Focus this Sunday with a broadcast that accuses you of billions of dollars of illegal dealings with President Kozlov and five other Russian billionaires.”
Stokes dropped into the seat behind his desk, “That dick said what?” For the next ten minutes, Crawford read aloud from the transcript of the conversation he’d just had with Diamond. According to the reporter, it was former CIA agent Steve Penn who came up with the documents to support the accusations. Playing with a gold letter opener on his desk, Stokes interrupted Crawford’s account every few sentences with explosive assessments of Diamond: “cocksucker,” “asshole,” “shithead” and Steve Penn: “fucking liar,” “goddamn traitor.”
By the time Crawford had ended, Stokes’s face was beet-red. “Give me that fucking transcript,” he said. When Crawford approached, Stokes ripped the papers from his hands, glanced at them briefly, and put them on his desk. Then he grasped the letter opener and brought it down so savagely it pierced the transcript and embedded itself in the teak desk that had served ten American presidents. “This is fucking outrageous!” Stokes bellowed. “It’s treason! How the fuck did he…”
“Mr. President,” said Crawford cautiously, “Diamond wants to know if we – if you – if the White House has any reply.”
“No fucking way.” Stokes yanked the letter opener from the desk. “It’s all lies. Fake news on top of fake news. Pure bullshit created by my enemies. They’re everywhere, believe me.”
He wheeled on Crawford. “And what brilliant answer did you have when he told you this?”
“You shouldn’t dignify any of this with a response,” said Stokes’s son. “What would be interesting to know though is how this disaster happened.” He stared at Cliff Dayton.
“Yes, exactly,” said Stokes, also turning his livid gaze on Dayton. “How the hell did this happen? When we won, you asked for a special intelligence operation of our own – off the books. And you got everything you wanted! A secret budget of hundreds of millions. Add to that, the shitload we spend on all that other stuff: the CIA, NSA, satellites. All that and this dickhead – what’s his name?”
“Steve Penn,” said Dayton,
“This dickhead, Steve Penn, still gets through! It’s fucking unbelievable!” He seized the letter opener again and pointed it at his advisor. “Goddamn it, Dayton, you were supposed to be on top of this. If you haven’t the balls – if you can’t do it – someone else will. Now get this,” his tone suddenly became ice cold, “I want Penn and that whole goddamned Focus operation shut down. Now!”
He put the letter opener down. “The Focus broadcast, I’ll take care of. We’ll see if the guys who own Diamond’s network have the balls to stand up to the White House. There’s plenty we can throw at them. They’ve got a big business. Focus has gotta be just a pissant detail to them. They can’t go around attacking me. I’m the president of the United States. It’s treason.” As Dayton and Crawford left, Stokes picked up his phone and ordered his secretary to call the White House Counsel and the Secretary of Commerce. “Tell them to get their asses right over here.”
Meanwhile, a fuming Cliff Dayton returned to his office and immediately called George Ramos, head of operations of the secretive Executive Liaison Office.
“Ramos, you and your people have fucked up big-time,” Dayton exploded.
“Sir?” Ramos’s gut instantly tightened. He had just returned from a lengthy, lubricated lunch at The Palm.
“You guys were supposed to be tracking the opposition,” said Dayton. “You’re supposed to be on top of everything. You’ve got a staff of five hundred, access to everything from every one of our goddamned agencies. We spend hundreds of billions on knowing what’s going on and yet you let one former CIA agent make fools of us all, of me.
“Who are you talking about?” asked Ramos, his stomach still churning.
“Steve Penn,”
“The prick who wrote the Russian hacking report?”
“You told us he was dead. He drowned.”
“He did.”
“Did he? He’s turned up very alive on a report that Ed Diamond is going to broadcast this Sunday!”
“I don’t understand,” said Ramos.
“Of course, you don’t,” said Dayton. “You’ll be getting a transcript of Diamond’s call to the White House press office. This is strictly confidential, but Stokes wants Penn and that whole goddamned operation shut down immediately, wherever they are. Those are your marching orders. And I don’t give a rat’s ass how you do it.”
From: Captain Jean Swanson
To: George Ramos, Cliff Dayton
Subject: urgent call re former CIA agent Steve Penn and possible Focus broadcast.
Confidentiaclass="underline"
I don’t know how to reply to the comments you relayed from the White House. Also surprised to learn that Penn is alive. As you know, we had our suspicions all along that his “suicide” might not be what it seemed. We also did issue an alert two days ago that something might be in the works. (see JS 51)
Have no excuses, but do have further results that will lead to our locating Penn and/or Diamond.