26
President Donald Kempt sat back in his favorite chair near a roaring fireplace, picked up a hardcover book on the U.S. Civil War and settled in for a few minutes’ peace and quiet. In his early fifties, Kempt had a head of gray hair that he liked to keep short. He was dressed in khaki slacks, with a white shirt underneath a dark-blue, hand-knitted sweater. Away from the capital for a few days, Kempt was enjoying the silence when there was a knock at the door. He placed his book down and said, “Come in.”
A moment later, a tall, African-American man in a dark suit entered the room.
“What’s up, Bill?” Kempt asked Bill Porter, the head of his security detail.
“Sir, Mister Leonard is inbound. ETA seven minutes,” replied Porter, as calm and cool as the ice covering the lake outside of the small cottage.
“That’s odd,” replied the President, wondering why Dan Leonard, his National Security Advisor, would fly up to Camp David instead of talking to him from the Pentagon on a secure line. “Did he say why he was coming?”
“No, sir.”
“Very well; when he arrives, please escort him to the Laurel Lodge.”
“Very good, sir,” replied Porter.
The Laurel Lodge conference room, like the Situation Room at the White House, was built to allow a president the opportunity to hold meetings with his top advisors while at Camp David.
Precisely seven minutes later, a military Blackhawk helicopter came in to land.
President Kempt met his National Security Advisor at the entrance to the lodge with a smile and a fresh cup of coffee in his hand. After exchanging pleasantries, both men took a seat at a long wooden table, which nearly filled the room.
“Dan, it’s a week before Christmas, why aren’t you back home in California with your grandkids?” asked Kempt.
“I’ll get there soon enough,” replied Leonard. A white-haired, former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Leonard was known as a loyal and honest man who despised partisan politics and had had to be personally convinced by President Kempt to come out of retirement and serve in his administration.
“I’m going to hold you to that,” said President Kempt. Dan Leonard was always the first man in and the last to leave his office at night. Kempt figured that it would take a squad of marines to force his friend onto a plane heading for California, especially if something was troubling him.
“My wife already has our suitcases packed, sir. I may have once commanded the most lethal fighting force in the world, but I know better than to run afoul of Dianne.”
Kempt chuckled. “Okay then, Dan, what you brought you up here?”
“I wanted to speak to you face-to-face, Mister President.”
“You do realize that this conversation could have been conducted via teleconference,” said Kempt, motioning over to the far wall covered with screens. “The taxpayers spent millions of dollars to ensure that their president was kept fully informed, no matter where he was or what he was doing.”
“Sir, I learned long ago when I was just a lowly ensign in the navy that some news needs to be passed on in person,” replied Leonard.
Kempt didn’t like the sound of that. Looking into his advisor’s pale-blue eyes, Kempt said, “Okay, Dan, what’s going on?”
“Sir, a few hours ago the NSA intercepted two messages coming into the United States from abroad. One was an email and the other a cellphone call. Both were to General Jack O’Reilly’s private security organization based up in Albany, New York.”
Kempt sat up. Although he didn’t like it, he knew why the NSA collected data on messages coming in and out of the United States. However, the mention of General O’Reilly instantly made him uncomfortable. Having recently stopped a North Korean plot to cripple the country’s strategic petroleum reserves, Kempt held O’Reilly and his people in high regard.
“Sir, before you say anything, I do not for one moment believe that Jack O’Reilly or his people are up to no good. In fact, I think they may have stumbled into something that they do not fully understand.”
“Go on.”
“Sir, the intercepted email contains information regarding a potentially unknown pathogen which was inadvertently brought back to Earth by the Soviets on board their Luna 15 space probe back in 1969.”
“I’m sorry, Dan, I’ve never been much of a space buff. What was the Luna 15?”
Setting his reading glasses on his nose, Leonard opened up his file folder and began. For the next five minutes, Leonard briefed President Kempt on the official history of the probe and what had been just been discovered by Jen in Russia.
Kempt said, “And the cellphone call?”
“Sir, that came from Venezuela. It was from a former Army Ranger captain, Ryan Mitchell, to General O’Reilly.”
“That man gets around,” observed the president.
“Yes, sir, that he does. It would appear that Mitchell was the man who responsible for the fire on the Bolivar V oil rig.”
“I guess the Venezuelan government’s press release about a faulty pipe isn’t quite accurate.”
“Sir, there’s more. During Mitchell’s escape, a Venezuelan military helicopter was shot down.”
“My God, is he trying to drag us into a war? What on earth was Mitchell doing?”
Leonard looked the president straight in the eyes. “Sir, I know you’re not going to like this, so I’ll get straight to the point. According to the transcripts of the conversation between Mitchell and O’Reilly, they believe that David Houston continued to run the oil rig through a shadow corporation after it was nationalized by the Venezuelans and that he has the Luna 15 probe in his possession.”
“I take it that when you say David Houston, you’re talking about the vice-president’s largest campaign contributor?”
“That is correct, sir.”
“You do realize that later today, David Houston will be hosting the vice-president along with several hundred wealthy and very influential leaders of the business community at his ranch in Texas?”
“Sir, I am fully aware of what Vice President Grant is doing.”
Kempt was becoming quite concerned. Masking his emotions, he asked Leonard to go on.
Reading from his notes, Leonard explained how O’Reilly and his people had been hired by Houston to find the probe on Bouvet Island and everything that had happened since.
“I take it that you transcripts of both messages with you?” said the president.
“Naturally,” replied Leonard as he handed over copies of the notes.
Flipping through the pages, Kempt’s mood soured. It was obvious that something involving Houston was going on. What it was wasn’t clear, but Kempt was a politician, and he knew to trust his gut and right now, it was telling him to tread lightly.
“Jesus, Dan, this could all be some big misunderstanding,” said Kempt. “Without hard evidence, of which there is none right now, I’m not ready to send the FBI to arrest David Houston.”
“I agree, sir. However, this information could be correct, and if so we are facing a potential threat to the national security of the United States,” replied Leonard bluntly.
“What are you recommending?”
“Sir, I suggest that we immediately have the Russian authorities detain O’Reilly’s people in Saint Petersburg. We cannot risk the information they have leaking to the press. It would cause worldwide panic.”