Chapter 12: Theβ β Realβ β Deal
Danny's point of view
"Come in, General." We shake hands, and I motion for him to sit in a chair close to me. "Have a seat, and we'll have coffee brought in."
The General is no small talker. "General President, you are trailing in the polls and still dropping. I'm sure you've noticed."
"Of course."
He scoffs. "Remember when President Sullivan and I first called you and what he wanted you to do if he remained in office?"
"Yes, and it puzzled me. He wanted me to be a military advisor. But General, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs is the military advisor." β βHis head dips down and up in a shallow bob. "Quite right. Since my term ends next year, I recommended you as my replacement."
My jaw drops in awe and freezes several seconds before I recover. "But, but General Hogue, in the past the new chairman has been a Vice-Chairman or joint chief for years. Their qualifications outstrip mine."
"Your qualifications are more important than the seniority of others."
I'm suspicious. The General doesn't waste time or mince words. He doesn't make social calls. He scratches his bald head and squares his broad shoulders and locks gazes with me.
"General President, be blunt, please. Which position suits you best, leading the military, or leading the country?"
"Well General, the President is the Commander In Chief; so theoretically, he or she is head of both."
He leans slightly toward me. "Yes, but in fact, only the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs recommends when to declare war. So who is directly in charge of the military?"
I'm still jogging behind him. I don't know where he is going with this. "Alright General, the president is the highest-ranking officer, but the chairman doesn't have direct control of the combat troops."
"No, that's the Secretary of Defense's job. And who advises that individual?"
I grin at his cunning. "The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs."
"Yes, the Chairman is the military advisor to the president, the National Security Council, the homeland security council, and the secretary of defense. That's pretty military I'd say."
"Out with it, General. What are you getting at?"
He rewards my impatience with a knowing smile. "The terrorists want you out of office. Judging by the popular vote, they might get their wish. But the reasons they want you gone are all military related."
My endurance for good manners is getting challenged. I want to know what the fuck the Chairman is getting to. "So?"
"Wouldn't it be a kick in the teeth if you weren't president, but were still in their face and kicking their ass even more so?"
I lean back, faking disinterest. "Yes, it would. Where are you going with this, General?"
"What would happen if you and the Republican Party agreed to an arrangement between a candidate and his political party for your endorsement of their candidacy?"
I'm intrigued. "An arrangement for what, exactly?"
"The Republican Party would get certain concessions for appointing you Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. This way you're running toward the terrorists rather than running from them. And you have the whole military at your disposal for protection if you need it." He smiles and leans back.
To say I'm stunned is as necessary as saying a horse is a quadruped. My jaw drops and my breathing stops. I am not just at a loss for words. If the right words were tattooed on my tongue, I still wouldn't know how to respond or what to say.
He smiles and waits patiently for a response. Respond? Hell's bells in seashells! He might as well order a Pizza while he waits because I'm thinking in slow motionβno motion even. My brain has weighed anchor and is floating without direction because it's lost its compass and can't chart its course. This conversation scrambled and jumbled my thoughts. Talk about a knockout punch. I didn't see this one coming.
I take a sip of coffee to buy a little more time and reply. "What brings this idea up, General?"
"Simple. The joint chiefs don't want to lose your leadership. We've seen you kick ass, but never kiss it. You are more of a general than a president, am I right?"
"If you're asking if I'm more comfortable leading people who follow orders, then the answer is yes. But am I comfortable quitting?" I shake my head. "Not in the least."
He leans to one side and surveys me like he's sizing me up or taking inventory of the hairs on my head. "The other candidates have two possible outcomes. Win the election or lose it. You, on the other hand, are being offered a third choice: Win, Lose or transfer to another position of high rank that will complement the president-elect without competing with him. He won't have to match your military strength because he'll have you. You will strengthen his presidency. "
"But General, wouldn't the Vice Chair or other joint chiefs resent being passed over?"
His chuckle is like a hiccuping burp. "They're military to the marrow of their bones, General Madam President. Being passed over by the only five-star general in the entire military forces won't cause anyone to lose face. Not to mention your track record proving your qualifications." He shakes his head and grins. "No, the appointment will not ruffle a single feather." He holds up a finger. "First female president, and," up pops another finger; "first woman five-star general. Now the first woman Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. Do you think you can handle being first at everything?"
We both laugh as I stand and extend my hand. "As usual, General, you outflanked me and outgunned me. I didn't see this one coming. Do you believe the Democrat candidate will agree to such a thing?"
"It will guarantee him the presidency, and a stronger one. He will do it. Also, your party gets concessions and favors it will lose if you lose. The public will know and remember that you didn't lose the presidency. Instead, you took a lateral promotion that allows you to concentrate on America's defense and safety with many fewer distractions." He stands βto leave. "Think about it and let's talk tomorrow morning, will that do?"
I smile at his subtle as a hammer approach. "That'll do just fine."
***
During dinner, I share the news with my husband and my friend. Kammy's lower lip juts out. "You mean I can't live in the White House anymore?"
Gino pats her hand. "Not to worry, Phantom, we'll get a house any color you want."