Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 09 Read online

  A few moments later, the President-elect himself opened the door. “Come in, please, gentlemen,” he said, his everpresent half-smile on his face. “Welcome. Hope we didn’t keep you too long.”

  “Of course not, Governor Thom,” the chief justice responded, with a faint smile. “Don’t be silly—I’m the one disturbing you. This is your time. Probably the last real peace and quiet you’ll have for a very long time.”

  The president-elect shook his head and smiled as if he was completely oblivious to what was going to happen soon. “Nonsense, Your Honor. Peace is a state of mind, not a function of time, place, or sound.”

  “Of course.” The chief justice and the clerk looked at each other and exchanged a single silent comment as they entered: Yep, he’s a strange one, all right.

  The clerk looked at his watch, then at the chief justice with not a little concern as they were admitted inside. The president and vice president-elect were supposed to be at the west portico of the Capitol in twenty minutes for the start of the inauguration-day ceremonies. The festivities had in fact already started: a military pass-in-review in honor of the outgoing president and vice president, a concert by the Marine Band, the invocation, and various poetry readings celebrating the first peaceful transition of power in the United States of the new millennium.

  The vice president-elect would be sworn in first at ten minutes before noon, followed by a song or march of the vice president-elect’s choice while the players on the dais repositioned themselves. The vice president-elect, who happened to be one- half Seminole Indian, had chosen the “John Dunbar theme” by John Barry, from Dances with Wolves, with Michael Tilson Thomas conducting the New World Symphony. The presidentelect’s swearing-in was supposed to start at thirty seconds before noon, timed so that at precisely one second after noon, the president-elect should be uttering the words “So help me God.” The swearing-in would be followed by the first playing of “Hail to the Chief” by the Marine Band, then the President’s inaugural address to the nation, followed by a reception with the congressional leadership. Supreme Court members, and other dignitaries and guests in the Presidential Room of the Capitol.

  Then there would be the parade down Pennsylvania Avenue to the White House—the newly sworn President and Vice President and their wives were expected to continue the Jimmy and Rosalyn Carter tradition and walk a good portion of the twelve-block parade route. Later tonight, there were inaugural balls scheduled all across Washington—about fifteen in all— and the new President, Vice President, and their wives were expected at least to put in an appearance and take one turn around the dance floor at all of them. Everything was being coordinated down to the second, and there was intense pressure by organizers on everyone—even Supreme Court justices—to keep on schedule.

  Thorn extended his hand to the chief justice of the Supreme Court as the latter entered the room. “Chief Justice Thompson, good to see you again,” he said. “Here to do the preliminaries, I presume?”

  “Yes, Governor,” the chief justice said, a bit impatiently. “We’re a little pressed for time, so we’d better—”

  “Yes, I know, I know. The precious schedule,” the president-elect said, his smile disarming. The room was packed, but everyone was on their absolute best behavior, sitting quietly without fussing or any sign of nervousness. The president-elect had five children, all less than eight years of age, but there was not a peep out of any one of them except for polite whispers—everyone thought they were the most well behaved children on the planet. “We’re ready for you now.”

  The dark horse had a name, and it was Thomas Nathaniel Thom, the former boy-governor of Vermont. Tall, boyishly handsome, his wavy hair thinning but still blond—Thom was only in his mid-forties—with dancing blue eyes and an easy smile, he looked like anything but the fastest-rising star on the American political scene. As the founder and leader of the Jeffersonian Party, Thom was the first alternative-party candidate since Abraham Lincoln and his fledgling Republican Party to be elected to the presidency.

  The vice president-elect, Lester Rawlins Busick, the former six-term senator from Florida, and his wife, Martha, were inside as well, with their two grown children. Busick, a former southern “Reagan” Democrat—fiscally conservative but socially liberal—was an old political pro and very well respected inside the Beltway. But he had parted ways with his party on several issues, and had soon come to realize that his message could better be heard from the forum of the hot new Jeffersonian Party rather than if he were just another veteran senator shouting against the political hurricane. Despite Busick’s strong reputation and sheer physical presence, however, he was practically invisible in the crowded hotel room.

  The door was secured, and the onlookers gathered around, with an aide discreetly snapping pictures. The chief justice shook hands with everyone, then said in a rather rushed tone of voice, “As you know. Governor Thom, the Twentieth Amendment to the Constitution of the United States prescribes the actual moment at which you take office, which is one second after twelve o’clock noon today. Article Two, Section One of the Constitution also mandates that you take the oath of office before assuming your responsibilities as president of the United States.

  “Therefore, since there is a big ceremony with a lot of people and a lot of things that can conceivably go wrong between here and the official swearing-in ...” he paused slightly—they were very late already, so this was certainly a case of one of “those things that can conceivably go wrong”—“... it is customary to administer the oath of office before the public ceremony, so that at the moment your term of office does officially commence, you will have already been sworn in and we avoid any constitutional questions. I'm confident you will have no objection to taking the oath twice.” Thorn just smiled that peaceful, confident half-smile, the one that helped power him past an incumbent Republican, President Kevin Martindale, and a nationally recognized Democratic front-runner and all the way into the White House. “Very good. You have the Bible, I see. Mrs. Thorn. Let's proceed,”

  Amelia Thom held out an antique Bible, one that could be traced back to President Thomas Jefferson's family, in the direction of the chief justice's voice. Amelia Thorn had been blind since an early age, the result of childhood diabetes, but hers was a true story of perseverance and strength: she was an experienced jurist, a mother of five, and had held a seat on the New Hampshire State Supreme Court before resigning to help in her husband's presidential campaign. “Please place your left hand on the Bible, Governor Thom, raise your right hand, and repeat after me: ‘I, Thomas Nathaniel Thorn, do solemnly swear . . .” Thom recited the oath of office flawlessly, passionately, with his eyes on his wife, and hers on him, lifted toward the sound of his voice. The task was repeated with Lester Busick, with his wife Martha holding the antique Bible open to a passage in the Book of Isaiah,

  “Thank you. Governor Thom, Senator Busick.” The chief justice could still not legally call them “Mr. President” or “Mr. Vice President” yet, but he shook their hands and congratulated them nonetheless. “I wish you the best of luck and the prayers of a nation. Now, I think we should be on our way, or else the producers and directors choreographing the show today will all be very angry at us.”

  “We’re not ready yet,” Thom said.

  Hie chief justice looked aghast. “Excuse me, Governor?”

  “We’re not ready.” Thorn motioned to the seats arranged in front of the huge fireplace in the hotel suite, and quickly but quietly, Busick and his family and Thom’s family sat down and joined hands. “We have one task to perform before we leave. You are welcome to join us, or you can observe, or you can make your way to the Capitol.” He led his wife to the love seat facing the fireplace, the White House visible across the street through the windows flanking it, then sat down and nodded to those around him. “Close the eyes, please.”

  To Chief Justice Thompson’s great surprise, they all closed their eyes and fell silent, hands joined, heads bowed. He looked at his
cleric, then at his watch, then at the amazing spectacle before him. “What... what are they doing?” he whispered to a Secret Service agent assigned to the family. “Are they praying?”

  “I don’t think so, sir,” the agent replied quietly. “I think they’re meditating.”

  “Meditating? Now? The man’s going to be sworn in as president of the United States in less than a half hour! How can he think about meditating at a time like this?”

  “They do this twice a day, Your Honor, every day,” the agent said matter-of-factly. “Twenty minutes. Exactly twenty minutes. All of them.”

  It was then that the chief justice realized that all the stories he had heard about Thomas Nathaniel Thom were probably true. This was impossible ... unacceptable! “Governor Thom, please, we should be going.” No response. Thompson raised his voice in his most commanding courtroom tone: “Governor Thom! ”

  One of the children opened her eyes, looked at the chief justice, then looked at her mother quizzically, but closed her eyes again when Amelia didn’t react. “You may join us, you can observe, or you may leave,” Thom said in a very quiet but perturbed voice, keeping his eyes closed, “but you may not disturb us. Thank you.”

  Chief Justice Thompson knew his presence was demanded at the Capitol, knew he had to be there—but he couldn't make himself leave. He stood, transfixed, and watched in amazement as the minutes ticked by and the hour of transition approached. There were several urgent radio and phone calls, all answered by the Secret Service, but the Thoms and the Busicks could not be disturbed.

  Thompson considered saying something, perhaps even ordering them to get their asses in gear and get going because the nation was waiting for them, for God's sake, but some unexplained force kept him from saying another word. He couldn’t believe the children—even the infant seemed to be resting, and the toddlers didn’t move a muscle. He had never before in his life seen toddlers sit still for so long—his own grandchildren, although very well behaved, seemed to have nanosecond attention spans.

  Precisely twenty minutes later, the Thoms opened their eyes—it was as if a silent command had passed between them, because they all did it together. The Busicks opened their eyes when they detected the Thoms stirring. None of them looked Sleepy in the least—in fact, they looked energized, refreshed, ready to power ahead. The older children quickly leapt into action without being told to do so, checking the younger children’s diapers and helping Amelia Thom pack up. Within moments, they were ready to leave.

  “Governor, Senator, we. . . we'd better hurry,” Chief Justice Thompson stammered, still not believing what he had seen with his own eyes.

  “No hurry, Mr. Chief Justice," Thom said. “We have lots of time.”

  “But it’ll take at least ten minutes to get to the Capitol, even with an escort, and at least ten more minutes to get up to the—”

  “We’re not going to the Capitol,” Thom said. The Busicks and the Thoms were out the door, led by Secret Service agents scrambling to clear the way. They bypassed the elevator and headed right to the ancient stairway.

  “You’re. . . you’re not going to the Capitol?” Thompson asked in shock. But he, too, had to hurry to keep up with the family.

  “The ceremony there is to honor President Martindale and Vice President Whiting, Your Honor," Thom said. “The people elected me to work for them, not to give speeches or put myself on parade,"

  “But... but the Congress, the other dignitaries, the invited guests, hundreds of thousands of citizens from all over the country—they're all waiting for you at the Capitol. What are they going to say when you don't show up?"

  “Same thing as they would if I did show—maybe kindlier, since they won’t have an inaugural speech to pick apart," Thom said, “No matter. Your Honor."

  “ You ’re not giving an inaugural speech ? ” Thompson cried in stunned amazement, “You’re joking, of course." He knew he wasn't.

  “I’ve got work to do. I’ve got a cabinet to get confirmed, several dozen federal judges to appoint, and a government to run. I promised the voters I’d get right to work, and so I shall."

  The Thoms and Busicks marched downstairs, across the ornate lobby of Blair House, and right across Pennsylvania Avenue past the barricades and the District of Columbia Police to the security gate at the White House, The crowds were thin, more than the usual number of tourists and passersby on the pedestrians-only street, but most of them were still along the parade route. In a few moments, however, a small crowd was gathered around them. Thomas Thom shook a few hands, but he remained purposeful as he and his vice president-elect marched their families up to the security gate.

  The Secret Service agents radioed ahead as fast as they could, but the group was still stopped by angry and confused Park Police. “What the hell is going on here?” the guard asked.

  “I’m reporting for duty," Thom said confidently. "Open up.”

  “What?” the guard shouted. “Who the hell are you, bub? Back the—" and his jaw dropped as recognition began to dawn.

  The chief justice stepped up.

  “I am Joseph Thompson, chief justice of the Supreme Court of the United States. I have just administered the oath of office to these two gentlemen. Governor Thom and Senator Busick...” The chief justice looked at his watch—it was now twelve-oh-two. . . “I mean, the President and Vice President of the United States wish to enter the White House and begin their work.”

  By that time, the Secret Service Presidential Protection Detail had responded, moving the crowd back, clearing the way, and providing the proper authentication to the startled and shocked Park Police and uniformed Secret Service officers. The security guard couldn’t believe it was happening, but he buzzed open the gate and admitted the new President and Vice President of the United States and their families onto the grounds of their new home.

  “Mr. President, are you sure you want to do this?” Chief Justice Thompson asked again, as urgently as he possibly could. “This is ... certainly unprecedented.”

  “There is nothing in the Constitution that directs me to have an inauguration ceremony, give a speech, parade through the streets of Washington, or put ourselves or our families on display,” Thom said. Thompson quickly scanned two decades’ worth of studying and teaching the U.S. Constitution, and he realized Thorn was right: there was no Constitutional mandate or public law that said there had to be any sort of ceremony.

  “Our inauguration is not a victory celebration, Mr. Chief Justice,” Thom went on. “We’ve just been given an important job to do—nothing more, nothing less. There’s nothing to celebrate. I’m disrupting my family life, putting my dreams and aspirations on hold, and opening myself to all sorts of public scrutiny, doubt, and danger—all to do the people’s business. I see no reason to celebrate anything but the peaceful transition of power in the world’s greatest democracy. If anyone should celebrate, it’s the voters who chose to exercise their right to choose their form of government and to choose who should lead it. As for me, I’ll get right to work.”

  Chief Justice Thompson could say nothing else. He held out his hand, and Thom shook it warmly. Thom and Busick shook a few more hands, and to cheers and chants of “Thom, Busick! Thom, Busick! ” led their families forward to the White House and marched into history.

  Prizren, Kosovo, Federal Republic of Yugoslavia That same time

  “Usratta mozhna! That cowardly bastard did not even have the guts to attend his own swearing-in!*’ Chief Captain Ljubisa Susie, chief of the Prizren Federal Police Force, Kosovo, Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, laughed at the television with glee. He prided himself on his excellent knowledge of Russian, especially obscenities. “At a time when the eyes of the whole world are upon him, he decides to hide in the White House and play with his vice president’s meat pole, on igrayit z dun *kay kulakovay! ”

  Susie was in his office, staying late so he could watch the satellite TV broadcast available only in the headquarters building. Here in his office he had peace and
quiet, the television picture was reliable and relatively clear, he had maraschino— strong, expensive Serbian cherry brandy—and he had his pistol, which he was required to carry while on the base but forbidden to carry outside. That was another example of the idiotic rules he had to follow because of the NATO occupation of Kosovo: he could carry a weapon when he was surrounded by a hundred heavily armed guards, but when he was on his own outside the headquarters compound, he had to be unarmed for fear of inciting unrest and fear in the civilian population— most of whom would gladly put a bullet in his head or a knife in his back.

  Prizren, in the southern section of the southern Yugoslavian province of Kosovo, was the headquarters of KFOR MNB (S), or Kosovo Force, Multi-National Brigade—South, the NATO- sponsored, United Nations-sanctioned peacekeeping force composed of fifty thousand troops from twenty-eight nations around the world, including the United States, Great Britain, Germany, and Russia. KFOR was set up to patrol Kosovo and attempt to minimize any more ethnic confrontations while the world community tried to find a solution for the problems associated with the disintegration of the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia.

  And there were plenty of problems. There was a Republic of Kosovo provisional government, sanctioned and even funded by the United Nations, which was scheduled to become the de facto government of the semi-autonomous republic in less than four years. No longer illegal, the Kosovo Liberation Army was more active than ever, with a force now estimated at more than fifty thousand men, equaling the size of the NATO, United Nations, and Russian peacekeeping forces combined. The KLA was supposed to have disarmed years ago, but that had never taken place—in fact, they were now reported to have heavy weapons such as antitank rockets and man-portable antiaircraft missiles, supplied by Iran, Saudi Arabia, and other Muslim nations.

  The KLA advertised itself as the heart of the soon-to-be independent nation of Kosovo’s self-defense force. It wasn’t true in the least. The KLA was composed mainly of ethnic Albanians, mostly Muslim, and clearly did not treat all Kosovo residents alike. They hated ethnic Serbs and Orthodox Christians, , but also discriminated against any foreigner and most other ethnic minorities inside Kosovo, such as gypsies, Romanians, Italians, Jews, and Greeks. Although not sanctioned by the United Nations or NATO, KLA soldiers had begun wearing uniforms and carrying weapons, touting itself as the one and only authentic native Kosovar police force.