The Third Option

chapter 44

It was Friday morning, and the West Wing of the White House was bustling with activity. Word had quickly swept through the halls that the president was on the warpath.

This didn't happen often with President Hayes, but when it did, the members of his administration usually knew enough to stay away. Today, he had been complicated by two additional pieces of information. The first was that upon entering the Oval Office at 7:54, the president had called his chief of staff, Valerie Jones, and demanded that Secretary of State Midleton be tracked down and told, not asked, to get to the White House immediately. The second was that a very frail-looking Thomas Stansfield had arrived and was now in the Oval Office with the president. The president's surly mood, his rather forceful request for the secretary of state, and the appearance of the director of the CIA had created an uneasy mood in the West Wing.

White House staffers prided themselves on being in the know, but on this particular Friday morning, they found themselves in the unnerving position of not knowing a thing about what was afoot. As the word spread that something big was going down, the phones began to buzz. Valerie Jones, the president's chief of staff, was being bombarded with questions from other important members of the administration. She also received a call from an old mend at the State Department, who wanted to know what was up. Jones answered honestly that she was out of the loop on this one, but she suggested to her friend that he make sure Secretary Midleton didn't keep the president waiting. Jones received her first call from a reporter before Midleton had even arrived. The word was out.

Inside the Oval Office, the president. had calmed a touch. Seeing Stansfield in such obvious pain made him forget about his troubles for the moment. Hayes, like almost all of his predecessors, understood the importance of good theater. There were far more subtle ways to confront this problem, but that was not what Hayes wanted. He wanted to send a message. He wanted to make an example of the pompous Charles Midleton and put him in his place. Hayes knew full well that by the end of the day, anyone who mattered in Washington would know that the president of the United States had handed the secretary of state his ass, and it would be done without a single word being printed.

Stansfield hadn't been so sure about the president's plan. There were many ways to handle such a meeting without anyone being the wiser. Both Stansfield and Senator Clark had entered the West Wing the night before without anyone other than the Secret Service knowing they were there. President Hayes explained to Stansfield that Midleton had already been warned to mind his own shop. His unusual cooperation with the German ambassador after the Hagenmiller assassination was bad enough, but his meddling in the nomination of the next DCI was indefensible.

There was also a second meeting planned for this morning. The wheels for that gathering had been set in motion the night before. The president had called on two old and very close friends to make it happen. It would be held in private with far less fanfare than the first. The attendees were already downstairs waiting in the Situation Room.

SECRETARY OF STATE Midleton was not a stupid man. He had tried to make several calls to find out what was going on, but since everyone else was in the dark, he got nowhere. He had managed to learn one thing from Michael Haik, the president's national security advisor, and that was that the president was in as bad a mood as he'd seen him in for some time. Armed with this limited amount of information, Midleton decided to make the trip to the White House without the accompaniment of any of his aides. Midleton entered the Oval Office by himself, his chin held high, trying to exude an air of confidence.

President Hayes wasn't about to stand to greet his guest, and Director Stansfield didn't have the strength or desire to do so.

"Mr. President, I came as soon as I could. What is wrong?"

"Sit" was the single biting word that left the president's mouth.

The president and Stansfield were sitting in separate chairs in front of the fireplace. Midleton crossed the room and sat on a couch that was closer to Stansfield. "What's wrong, Robert?"

Hayes let the tension grow for a moment before speaking. Staring at Midleton with a look that would be impossible to mistake for anything other than disdain, Hayes said, "I think I should be the one asking you what's wrong."

Midleton had racked his brain on the way over trying to figure out what he could have done to so anger the president, and he had only come up with one answer. It must have been his meeting with Congressman Rudin and Senator Clark. Until he knew for sure, though, he would keep his mouth shut. There was no sense in taking the heat for two wrongs. Using a more formal tone, Midleton said, "Sir, I honestly don't know what you are talking about."

"Charles, I worked with you in the Senate for more than a decade. I know when you're lying." Hayes stared at him. "What did I tell you before you left the White House earlier this week?"

Midleton didn't want to answer the question, and gave his standard evasive answer. "I don't recall."

"You don't recall." The president's fists were clenched as he mimicked Midleton. "Let's cut through the bullshit, Chuck. I told you to mind your own damn shop and keep your nose out of the CIA's business. Does that ring a bell?"

Midleton swallowed hard and said, "Yes."

"Then would you like to tell me what in the hell you were doing the very next morning when you met Hank Clark and Al Rudin at the Congressional Country Club for breakfast?"

"They wanted to talk to me about some recent security breaches at the State Department."

"Bullshit!"

Midleton looked away from the president and shook his head. "This is really no way to be running an administration."

"Oh, I suppose you think it would be better if I scheduled secret breakfast meetings and plotted to stab you in the back."

"You know, I really don't think I..."

Before Midleton could finish, Hayes cut him off sharply. "Shut your damn mouth, Chuck. You never got it through that pompous head of yours that I won the presidency, not you. When you quit after New Hampshire and agreed to throw your support behind me in exchange for a spot in the administration, that's when you lost, Chuck. The people didn't want you, and then, in exchange for your support, I made what is starting to look like the worst decision of my political career. But I can live with that because I can be rid of you by this afternoon and do so with a clear conscience." Midleton's eyes grew large in disbelief. "Oh, I'm not kidding. Have you seen my approval numbers lately? They're over seventy percent. I can demand your resignation, and a week from now you'll be history."

Midleton sniffed disdainfully. This couldn't be happening to him. He wouldn't dare.

"You don't think I'm serious? You don't think there aren't a hundred guys on the Hill who wouldn't jump the chance to take over at State? I could even get Republicans on board... you're not exactly their favorite character."

Midleton straightened himself and said, "Are you do threatening me?"

"No, I haven't even started. You have about one minute"  -  Hayes held up his index finger  -  "to explain me what you were doing the other morning at Congressional, and you'd better do so with some sincere remorse."

Midleton's mind scrambled to find some cover." As secretary of state, I need to be concerned about the national security issues that affect this country."

President Hayes stood abruptly." As secretary of state," he shouted, "you need to be concerned with what I tell you to be concerned with. I specifically told you earlier this week that if you had any questions regarding the CIA, you were to go through my national security advisor. Whom I choose to succeed Thomas"  -  Hayes pointed to the silent Stansfield  -  "is none of your damn business, and believe me, you will get no sympathy from the party when they find out you were conspiring with a Republican to thwart my nominee."

"I would hardly use the word conspire to describe a harmless breakfast meeting, and I don't think the party will be all that thrilled when they find out you've been spying on a senator, a congressman, and your secretary of state."

Midleton had taken it one step too far. Hayes yelled, "I didn't have to spy, you idiot. People came to us with the information." The president didn't want it to come to this. He honestly thought Midleton would see the error of his ways and admit fault, but the man was apparently incapable of such an act. The president marched across the room to his desk and grabbed a leather folder. He came back and tossed it onto Midleton's lap. "Open it and read. It's your resignation. I typed it myself, Chuck. I didn't want to use it, but since you have proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that I can't trust you, I see no other choice."

Midleton tried to speak, but Hayes didn't allow it. "I'm done listening. You had your chance to fess up, and you blew it. Just consider yourself lucky that I'm not firing you. If you sign that resignation, we can do this the easy way. I'll let you announce that you are resigning for health issues. You go ahead and pick the ailment. If you don't sign it, I'll walk out of here and go down to the press room and fire your ass on national television."

Midleton was in shock. His face was ashen as he stared at a very angry and serious president. In his wildest imagination, he never thought it would come to this. He was Charles Midleton. He was one of the most loved politicians in Washington. Midleton imagined Hayes marching down the hall to the press room to tell the world that he was firing his secretary of state. The embarrassment would be too much to handle. Midleton would have no platform from which to launch a counterattack. Hayes was too popular to confront. He had once again misjudged Robert Hayes. There was no way out. With great reluctance, Charles Midleton began to sign his name. He knew at that moment he would never recover from the embarrassment. His whole life, everything he had worked for in politics, was over.

CONGRESSMAN RUDIN WAS not amused by the skullduggery that had been used to get him to this meeting. He had received a call from the speaker of the House the previous evening requesting that he meet him in his office the next morning. Rudin had arrived on time and was forced to wait fifteen minutes. When Speaker Kaiser emerged from his spacious office in the Capitol he told the chairman of the House Intelligence Committee that they were going for a ride. Rudin, never one to shy away from confrontation, demanded to know where they were going. Kaiser told him in very clear terms that if he had any hopes of keeping his chairmanship of the Intelligence Committee, he'd better change his attitude and keep his mouth shut.

Kaiser was a former offensive lineman from the University of Alabarna and still looked as if he could rumble through the Cloak Room knocking fellow representatives from their feet. His stern rebuke left Rudin scrambling to try to figure out what he'd done wrong. When the speaker's limousine pulled through the Secret Service checkpoint at the south end of West Executive Avenue, Rudin was still unsure of what he'd done to offend the gods of politics. The two congressmen were escorted to the White House Situation Room  -  a further sign that things were serious. In Rudin's thirty-four years in Washington, he'd never seen the inside of the Situation Room. Matt Rohrig, the chairman of the Democratic National Committee, was waiting for them in the room. This was another bad sign. Rohrig was the party's money man.

When Rudin attempted to ask Rohrig what was wrong, Kaiser took the opportunity to tell Rudin one last time to sit quietly until the president arrived. Rudin racked his brain trying to figure out what he'd done wrong. At one point, he thought of the breakfast he'd had with Secretary Midleton and his friend Senator Clark earlier in the week, but he ruled it out as the source of the problem. It was no secret what Rudin thought of the CIA, and the president had yet to nominate anyone as Stansfield's successor. All he was trying to do was head the president off from making a horrible mistake.

Finally, the president entered the room with Thomas Stansfield. Albert Rudin literally recoiled with revulsion at the sight of the CIA's director. There was no one the congressman hated more, no one in the history of the Republic who had so brutally abused and ignored the authority of Congress. The only thing that pleased Rudin about the appearance of Stansfield was that the man looked as if he might drop dead at any moment.

President Hayes helped Stansfield into his chair and then sat in his spot at the head of the table. He placed a leather folder in front of him and leaned back. With his hands folded, he looked around the table. Kaiser and Rudin were sitting to the president's right, and Stansfield and Rohrig were on his left. The president was more than willing to play the heavy again, but Kaiser had asked for the honor. The speaker of the House believed that the president should stay above the fray.

Hayes opened the leatherbound folder and pulled out a sheet of paper. "I have some unfortunate news." Hayes held the sheet between his thumb and index finger and let it hang. "The secretary of state has just resigned." The president looked to Rudin for a reaction.

With a sour, confused look on his face, Rudin asked, "Why?"

"There's a long version, which I don't have the patience to give to you, so I'll give you the short version. Secretary Midleton is a pompous, arrogant man who doesn't know how to follow a simple order from his boss." Hayes pointed to himself. "That would be me, Al, in case you're wondering. I am the president of the United States. I run the executive branch of the government."

Rudin was thrown by the remedial lesson in civics. Looking to Kaiser, he shook his head and said, "What do I have to do with this?"

Kaiser didn't hesitate for a second. "Did you have breakfast the other day with Charles Midleton and Hank Clark?"

Rudin shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah. It is not unusual for me to have breakfast with colleagues."

"Who requested that meeting?"

"I don't know:'

"Don't bullshit me, Albert. You're on very thin ice right now." Kaiser stared at the rail-thin Rudin.

"I think it was Hank Clark's idea."

The president scoffed at the accusation, and Kaiser rumbled, "You don't honestly expect us to believe that, do you?"

"What is this all about? I don't know where you're getting your information, but I wouldn't be surprised to find out it came from a lying, senile, corrupt old man." Rudin pointed his beaklike nose at Stansfield.

The president beat the speaker to the punch this time. Hayes slammed his clenched fists down on the table, creating a dull thud that caused Rudin to blink." Albert, if you so much as utter one more offensive word toward Director Stansfield, I will crush you."

Kaiser jumped in. "What in the hell were you doing meeting with Midleton and Clark?"

"Nothing. We were talking about intelligence issues." Kaiser looked to Rohrig. "What's the name of that young hotshot who wants to challenge Albert for his seat?"

"Sam Ballucci. He's going to make a very good congressman someday."

"Mr. President, would you be willing to raise some money to help Sam Ballucci win the party's nomination?"

"How does twenty million sound, and I'll throw in half a dozen appearances with the young man. Maybe I could even speak to the delegates at the state convention?"

"I think that would be a good idea," answered Rohrig.

Rudin's crinkled face had taken on an angry red sheen. "I can't believe you are doing this to me. After all I have done for this party."

"All you've done for this party?" challenged Kaiser. "In my opinion, you've been nothing other than a major pain in the ass. Would you mind telling me what in the hell you were doing when you called Dr. Kennedy before your committee this week?"

"I would say I was doing my job."

"You now consider throwing wild, unfounded accusations at the director of the CIA's Counterterrorism Center your job? Accusations that do nothing more than harm our president, a fellow Democrat?"

"I take oversight of the intelligence community very seriously," snapped Rudin.

"Albert, so help me God, if you don't lose that irritating tone of yours and start showing some remorse for your stupidity, I will leave this meeting, and before noon I will have you stripped of your chairmanship."

Rudin pushed his chair away from the speaker and blinked. This was so unfair. All of this anger should be directed at Stansfield, not him. He was the one trying to protect Congress.

"For the last time, Albert, what did you talk about with Hank Clark?"

Rudin licked his dry lips and looked down at the shiny table. "We discussed the need to find a suitable candidate to run the CIA after Director Stansfield leaves."

"Did Dr. Kennedy's name come up?"

Rudin reluctantly answered. "Yes."

"How so?"

"We didn't feel that she was the right person for the job."

Kaiser shook his head in disgust. "There are two things about this, Albert, that really chafe my ass. The first is that it is not your job to find a suitable appointee to head the CIA. That's the president's job. The second thing that really, and I mean really chafes my ass is that you and that windbag Charles Midleton decided to recruit a Republican to help conspire against the president's nominee. Do you know what that makes you, Albert?" Kaiser didn't give him a chance to answer. "It makes you a goddamned Judas, that's what it makes you."