“You were right when you said I’ve accepted my death. Since I’m not long for this world, may I ask a question?”
“You want to know why.”
“Yes. I just want to know what I’m dying for.”
“I wish I could share the intimate details with you, Mr. Everton, as your life is surely worth at least an explanation. I wish it was that simple. I’m under strict orders forbidding me from ever disclosing that information. Suffice it to say, advance knowledge of the horrific violence you’ll be instigating would only make the task more difficult for you. You’ll be aiding us in our efforts to bring this country back to her former glory. And you, Mr. Everton, will soon be directly responsible for showing the world just how determined we are to do so.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Okay, Maxwell, why couldn’t we bring my son with us? He’s constantly nagging me to get out amongst the people. Now that I’m actually doing it, he can’t come along? What gives?” Howard Beck was sitting in a fancy restaurant in Seattle with Max and Elizabeth Harris. They’d spent the morning at the Port of Seattle touring the cruise ship that had been commandeered by squatters. Howard never mentioned to any of the residents that they would soon be leaving; that would come soon enough.
Maxwell Harris had started out as the constable of Beck Castle, responsible for the security of the massive underground bunker and its residents. The job also entailed providing protection for Howard, making Max a one-man Secret Service detail. Maxwell’s duties grew until Howard appointed him director of security for the entire PSA.
“Howard, your son is the vice president of the Pacific States of America. The two of you cannot be at the same event. Should something happen to you, God forbid, your son needs to assume the presidency. Basic stuff, Howard. I know I’m just a cop, but I’m pretty sure I saw that on television.”
Elizabeth Harris loved to tease her husband. “Honey, we’re all loving what you’re doing here. Just think of a Secret Service movie or two and you’ll be a shoe in for director.”
“Whoa! Where were you? Didn’t get the memo? I am the director of the Secret Service.”
Elizabeth’s smile was like a drug to Max. “Are we giving ourselves jobs now?”
“Whatever you want, my love.”
“Hmmm…This could be fun. Any job I want? Okay, I officially appoint myself assistant director of the Secret Service.”
“Not gonna aim higher?”
“And leave your side? You know I could never do that.” Elizabeth ran her fingers through her husband’s hair as she planted a kiss on his weathered cheek. Howard was learning to tolerate the couple; before long, he might even be comfortable around them. However, their overt physical displays of affection would make anyone with Asperger’s feel awkward.
“Howard, you poor thing, are we making you uncomfortable?” Elizabeth couldn’t resist the chance to tease her friend, though he tried is best to ignore her.
Max winked at his wife. “Honey, we’ve talked about this, and it’s time we both started addressing Howard as Mr. President.”
Elizabeth tried again, her serious tone less than genuine. “I’m sorry. Mr. President, would you like me to stop kissing my husband?”
“You two are picking on me, aren’t you?”
“Only because we love you so much! Lighten up, Mr. President.”
“Fun seems to always be at my expense. I was hoping my son would be here to give some fancy-pants speech so I wouldn’t have to.”
Max appreciated the return to a weightier topic. “Marshall told me he wrote a speech for you. Don’t you have it?”
“I do. I’d just rather not give a speech at all.”
“You ran a multi-billion-dollar corporation, and you didn’t give the occasional speech?” Elizabeth asked.
“My dear, I owned a multi-billion dollar corporation which meant I didn’t have to give speeches or anything else that didn’t suit me. Senator Wilson keeps pressuring me to revise my speech.”
Max could tell Howard was getting upset. “Howard, you don’t have to change anything! You’re the president, for crying out loud.”
“Wilson’s not asking me to change anything; he wants me to add a few things. Can’t stand politicians. That man drives me insane with all of his fast-talking nonsense.”
“What’s he wanting to add?”
“He wants me to drum up support for a diplomatic solution with the UAE, try and broker a peace agreement.”
Max looked puzzled. “Can’t exactly discuss peace when Richard wants to go on the offensive and invade California.”
Howard’s hearty laugh surprised them both. “Arthur Wilson won’t be kissing my ass for much longer. The good senator will probably announce his candidacy for president.”
Elizabeth loved seeing Howard in a good mood. “Speaking of that, when’s the next election? I think I’d be a kick-ass congresswoman.”
“I’d vote for you.” Max winked.
A heavy pall settled over the group as Senator Arthur Wilson entered the restaurant. Having spent over thirty years in politics, Senator Wilson had been one of Howard’s strongest advocates when the PSA was established.
“Mr. President, I am truly honored by your visit. We have a formal banquet prepared for you tonight at the Four Seasons. Plans for your address to the nation are moving forward without a hitch. I was wondering if you had a chance to consider my suggestions?”
Howard cut to the chase. “I’m not giving the speech at city hall.”
Senator Wilson took the news in stride. “Oh? What location do you prefer?”
“I’ll be speaking from the deck of the Freedom of the Seas.”
“The what?”
“The cruise ship.”
Senator Wilson scanned his keen political mind for an angle. “Housing for UAE refugees? I like it. That works. Nice job tackling one of the hot-button issues.” He couldn’t ignore the wide-eyed, cryptic looks exchanged by Max and Elizabeth. “What? Am I missing something? This is about housing refugees, isn’t it?”
“You could say that.” Max cleared his throat to cover the chuckle that threatened to intervene.
Elizabeth covered her mouth to hide a smile and then looked away from the senator. “Howard, maybe you should tell Senator Wilson what’s going on,” Elizabeth said.
Howard had been dreading this moment. He was truly grateful that Max and Elizabeth were here to defend him and run interference. “Senator Wilson, when’s the last time you visited California?”
The $800 million dollar cruise ship, the Freedom of the Seas—complete with fifteen decks, ten swimming pools, movie theater, ice-skating rink, and rock climbing wall—stood twenty glorious stories above the water. President Howard Alan Beck stood on a hastily built stage looking out across the harbor. A year had passed since the election, and the citizens of the Pacific States of America had yet to witness a live presidential address. He’d recorded his inaugural address to be disseminated to the citizens, much in the manner of FDR’s fireside chats of almost a century prior. While Howard hated public speaking, he knew the public wanted, needed, to hear from their president. Looking out at the expectant crowd, Howard removed a small tablet from his coat pocket. “Hal, how many people would you say are here?”
“Good morning, sir. Attendance is well over one hundred thousand. I have twelve drones in the air monitoring everything. I assure you things are perfectly safe.”
“Hal, I’m more worried about my speech right now.”
“Of course, sir. Simply lay your tablet down flat on the podium and the speech will be projected at eye level.”