Revenge in Advance - The Briefing

"The base department heads are all here for their morning briefing," she said. Oscar escorted them to the conference room, shut the door and motioned for them to sit.

"Good morning," he said. "Sorry I wasn't here earlier, I had something to take care of. I know I'm new on the job, so let me be clear. I don't need to know every little detail of what's going on here at the base. That's what you're here for. If you need a screwdriver, a light bulb or a roll of toilet paper, please don't bother asking. You have budgets and you know what you need done, so I expect you'll do it. If you need my assistance, please feel free to ask. Any questions so far?" He looked around the room before continuing.

"We're going to have a gaggle of VIP visitors here in a couple weeks or so," Oscar added. "I'll fill you all in as the time gets closer, but until then, I want to make sure everything on this base is shipshape and in good order. I trust you'll see to that." Everyone nodded their heads.

"Good," Oscar said. "I understand you're all used to holding briefings every morning, is that right?" Again, everyone agreed and nodded their heads. "Personally, I don't see the need for daily briefings unless there's something going on that requires it. For now, we'll scale back to once a week. If I need to speak to you all at once, I'll schedule a meeting. Questions?" Surprised, they looked around at each other and shook their heads.

"Also, since I am new on the job here, I'll be taking some time to visit your departments over the next few days to get a feel for what's happening," he said. "And I'll have some questions of my own for you. I look forward to seeing you out there," he said smiling. He stood up, signaling the end of the meeting. The department heads stood with him, shook his hand and thanked him as they left.

That felt good, Oscar thought to himself as he went back to his office. He made a note to follow through and schedule a visit with each of the departments. Right now, his mind was on the dignitaries who would be examining every aspect of their operation. He understood the need for oversight and welcomed it. But something about the list of names he saw gnawed at him. Hopefully, Mike and Ron would give him some answers.

The next week flew for Oscar. He visited every department under his control and learned the ins and outs of maintenance, traffic security, logistics and supply, water treatment, utility services, network and cable infrastructure -- you name it. He gained a new respect for mayors across the country who dealt with this sort of thing on a regular basis. Most important for him was that the department heads all knew he had their back so long as they did their jobs.

He called a meeting with the head of base security and the Marine battalion commander, and briefed them on the upcoming visit. They promised to formulate a plan and get back to him. Two days later, they did, outlining the steps they felt would provide the best security. Oscar agreed and signed off on the plan.

He conducted Skype meetings with Ron and Mike every day, hoping they had something to share with him that might alleviate his concerns. So far, though, they had found nothing that might raise red flags. They had so far only researched the lower-echelon underlings and were working their way up.

Ron wisely brought in two more researchers to help him and Mike go through everything, arguing that four sets of eyes were better than two. Oscar agreed, considering the timetable. Collette and Amanda would be there in three days or so, and he needed answers -- quickly.

Oscar relayed all this to Bill, who approved of his work so far and shared his concern that something didn't seem quite right.

"Have you looked closely at the new House Speaker?" Bill asked.

"Not yet," Oscar said. "The researchers have been focused on the underlings, but haven't found anything out of the ordinary. They just started looking at the main players."

"I know you hate politics and politicians, but I suggest you have them dig deep into the new House Speaker," Bill said. "I don't want to pass along idle gossip, but there have been rumors around Capitol Hill about her for a while. Also, you may want to take a hard look at the trips Pierce and his wife have made to England. I've heard that she has made several trips there on her own over the last several years."

"Interesting," Oscar said. "I'll pass that along."

"One last suggestion, Oscar," Bill said. "You may want them to dig deep to see what contact anyone on those lists might have had with each other, outside the normal course of business."

"That may be a bit tough with the British folks," Oscar said. "I'll contact Collette and see what she can get us."

"Do that," Bill said. "And remember, time's running out." After they ended the call, Oscar looked at the clock and called Collette. This time, she answered on the first ring.

"Hello, Oscar," she said.

"Hello, Major," Oscar answered. "We got your list and our researchers are going through it, but we need some details, things not readily available to the public. Do you think you can help us out?"

"What kind of details are you looking for?" she asked.

"Basically, everything," Oscar said. "Overnight visits in hotels, contacts with any Americans tied to the government, dinner dates, meetings, phone calls, messages, anything."

"You don't want much, do you?" she asked sarcastically. Oscar laughed.

"Unfortunately, our researchers don't have access to all of your government's data," Oscar said. "We need to fill in a few blanks."

"Anything else?" she asked.

"All the info on Cecelia and her contracts on my life you can get to me. I'm especially interested to know who her contacts in the States were," he said. "And I want to know who provided the million pounds for the hit."

"Alright," she said. "I think I can get you that. Should I email that to you?"

"Yes," Oscar said. "That will work."

"Right. Well, I'd better get to it, then, since you probably needed this yesterday," she said.

"Day before yesterday, actually. By the way, Collette," Oscar added. "How is your brother-in-law and his wife doing these days?" Collette's brother-in-law had suffered horribly at Cecelia's hands before being rescued by her and her group of soldiers.

"He's getting along nicely these days," she said, "but it hasn't been easy for him. Thanks for asking, though."

"You're welcome," Oscar said. "Give him my best."

"I will, Oscar, thank you," she said before ending the call. Oscar contacted Mike and Ron over a secure Skype link and discussed his conversation with Bill and Collette.

"I'm glad you brought this up, Oscar," Mike said. "I ran across something you might find interesting. A member of the British contingent, Ian McWhorter, has worked in their Home Secretary's office for about six years, and he's made several trips to the States, according to immigration records. Now that in and of itself may not be out of the ordinary, but check this out. I got in touch with your Secret Service contact at the White House, who got me five years worth of visitor logs."

"And," Oscar said.

"Guess who he visited every time he came to the States? None other than First Lady Elizabeth Skaggs," Mike said.

"Son of a bitch," Oscar said.

"Oh, there's more," Mike said. "McWhorter spent a great deal of time with Mrs. Pierce while he was here. I have photos of him posing with the then-vice president and his wife, but that's not all. I've learned that McWhorter went to the VP's residence more than once while he was here.

"It gets better," he said. "I decided to use that new facial recognition software the tech guys gave me and accessed all the traffic camera footage I could get my hands on. It's still working, but I did get two photos -- one showed McWhorter going into the Watergate. That's not unusual, since he was a registered guest there. But another photo shows a woman who could very well be the current First Lady entering the hotel about 30 minutes later."

"What, you can't positively identify her?" Oscar asked. Mike put the photo on his shared screen. It showed a well-dressed woman with long blonde hair, sunglasses and a fashionable wide-brimmed hat walking into the hotel.

"That doesn't look like Mrs. Pierce," Oscar said. "She's brunette, not a blonde."

"True," Mike said. "But when I ran the software, it indicated about an 80 percent chance that the woman was her, but with a wig."

"Keep working that angle, Mike," Oscar said. "Good job."

"Oh, I have more, boss," Mike said. "I also learned that McWhorter visited a very prominent member of the House -- Judy Chastain -- more than once."

"You mean the current Speaker of the House?" Oscar asked.

"One and the same," Mike said.

"Damn," Oscar said. "Keep after it, Mike. Good work." Mike nodded his head.

"Thanks, boss," he said.

"What have you found, Ron?" Oscar asked.

"Well," he began, "Most of the lower-echelon types have checked out, but there is one of Chastain's staffers, a Trisha Arnold, who wrote a paper while she was at Berkeley endorsing the concept of female-superiority and went so far as to suggest that misandry -- the hatred and prejudice of men -- be allowed and encouraged by federal law."

"Seriously?" Oscar asked.

"Yes," Ron said. "Let me read a bit from her dissertation: 'Since men are basically good for nothing except fostering violence, hatred, and war, they should be rounded up, caged, and forced to serve their biological superiors -- women, with their sperm collected and redistributed to compatible mistresses who might deign to carry a child to term.'

"There's more: 'Those who, for whatever reason, are found to be too violent to subjugate, should be treated in the same way one might treat a rabid dog, and eliminated from society with prejudice.' There's about 50 pages of this claptrap, but you get the point. She hates men with a passion."

"Holy crap," Oscar said. "And this person works for the Speaker of the House?"

"Yes," Ron said. "In fact, Chastain hired this person right out of Berkeley. Sounds to me like someone who would fit right in with MMAS. She's also pretty active on social media. Here's just a few of her tweets: 'Men suck,' 'All men must die.' And my personal favorite -- just kidding -- 'Kill all men.' That was before Chastain became Speaker. There was a big brouhaha over this and people were demanding Chastain do something."

"Did she?" Oscar asked.

"Yes," Ron said. "She promoted her."

"Crap," Oscar said. "Keep after it, okay?"

"I will, boss," Ron said.

"As soon as I get something from overseas, I'll pass it on to you," Oscar said. "In the meantime, keep up the good work. We'll talk tomorrow." They ended the call and Oscar sat back, thinking about the situation. Was MMAS really gone for good, or did they just grow new heads like some kind of mythical beast?

Oscar had an idea, so he called Kyle Bumstead, the senior Secret Service agent at the White House. He had met Kyle when he was at the White House during the Skaggs incident. Kyle answered on the first ring.

"Bumstead," he said.

"Kyle, Oscar Warren here. How's it hanging?" Oscar asked.

"Damn, you again," Kyle said. "I hear they made you a Special Agent."

"Yeah, they did," Oscar said.

"I guess they'll promote anyone these days," Kyle said. "So, what do you want now? Is this a secure line?"

"Yes, it is. I'd like all the information on President Skaggs' heart attack," Oscar said. "Not the redacted version you gave to the press. And I'd like to know what you can tell me about it." Oscar heard Kyle sighing heavily.

"Be straight with me, Warren," Kyle said. "Do you think President Pierce is in the same kind of danger?"

"Yes, I do," Oscar said.

"Shit," Kyle said. "Okay, I'll get you the full classified report, along with the autopsy. When do you need it?"

"Day before yesterday," Oscar said. "There's something about his heart attack that doesn't add up. When I saw him, he was fit as a fiddle. What happened?"

"Okay, I'll tell you, but this is off the record and you didn't hear it from me," Kyle said.

"Go ahead," Oscar said.

"Lincoln Skaggs' heart attack took place about two hours after he finished, er, meeting a White House aide," Kyle said.

"By 'meeting,' I take it you mean, 'screwing,' right?" Oscar asked. Kyle sighed again.

"Yeah, that's what I mean," Kyle said.

"Who was she?" Oscar asked.

"Her name was Yolanda Carstairs," Kyle said. "And yes, she still works here." Oscar looked over the list of names he got from Bill. There it was, under "C" -- Yolanda Carstairs.

"What does she do now?" Oscar asked.

"She works for OMB, the Office of Management and Budget," Kyle said. "Mostly, she acts as a liaison between the White House and Congress. Works a lot with Speaker Chastain."

"Hmmm," Oscar said. "Interesting. Thanks, Kyle, I appreciate it. Please, get that report to me ASAP. The president and his staff will be here before long. I suggest you reinforce his detail. And while you're at it, monitor Mrs. Pierce's communications."

"I'll do that, Oscar, thanks for the heads-up," Kyle said. "And I'll get that report to you by secure email right away. What about you? Can you offer any protection?"

"I've got a whole battalion of battle-hardened Marines and my own security people at my disposal," Oscar said.

"A whole battalion of Marines, huh?" Kyle asked. "I guess they can keep up with a Secret Service detail," he added, laughing. "Talk to you soon, Oscar. Take care," Kyle said, ending the call.

Oscar sent an email to Ron and Mike, advising them of what he had just learned and instructing them to do a deep dive on one Yolanda Carstairs of the Office of Management and Budget. In minutes, he got a response from Ron: "On it."

Minutes later, he received a secure email from Kyle. He looked over the document, which was filled with undecipherable medical lingo, saved it and forwarded it to the medical experts with instructions to analyze the report and give him detailed results, "by the close of business." In a few minutes, he received a response from the chief medical officer: "Will do, can be in your office anytime."

Not long afterward, he got another secure email, this time from Collette. He knew what this was all about and didn't need anyone to decipher it for him. From what Collette could gather, McWhorter and Mrs. Pierce frequently met at a London hotel when she was in town by herself, and the two would spend the night together. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what they were doing.

He also learned that McWhorter and Cecelia would meet at the manor where Collette's brother-in-law had been held. He didn't want to know how Collette got the information, but he began to see a pattern, and it bothered him a great deal. He forwarded a copy of the report to Mike and Ron, with instructions to "dig even deeper."

He wrote a short note to the chief medical officer: "My office, one hour." Then he sent a secure email to Bill: "My office, ASAP. New details. Can't discuss."

In less than a minute, he got an acknowledgment from the doctor and a response from Bill: "On my way, be there in one hour."

...

Barbara Pierce took in her new surroundings at the White House and was giddy at the prospect of seeing her long-time lover when he arrived to participate in her husband's fact-finding mission to someplace called "Fort Apache." She picked up her cell phone, which had international coverage, and hit the speed dial. After a couple rings, her lover answered.

"Good morning, sweetie," Ian said. Barbara loved hearing the sound of his voice and swooned at the sound of his refined British accent. Compared to Ian, she thought, her husband was nothing more to her than a poor dirt farmer from some piece of crap town in Idaho, even though he was the most powerful man on Earth.

"Oh God, Ian, I can't wait to see you again," she said. "When will you be here? I'm so wet for you."

"Soon, love," he said. "Very soon. Has your husband said anything about the trip?"

"No, Ian, he won't say anything," she said. "Said it's all hush-hush boring national security stuff. He's dropping me off to visit a school and a day care while he has his super-secret meetings."

"Has your husband been behaving himself?" Ian asked.

"So far," she said. "He avoids me as much as possible. He knows how important my daddy's support will be if he wants to run for re-election after this term. I think we pretty much put the fear of God into him. He hasn't mentioned divorce once since, well, you know."

"Yes, I do," Ian said. "Too bad Mona and Liz aren't around anymore to carry through on their little threat. I would rather enjoy seeing your husband squirm just a bit with a baseball bat up his arse." Barbara laughed.

"That's okay," she said. "I know a few others around here who would love to fill in."

"I'll just bet you do," he said. "Don't worry about a thing. After this trip, we may see yet more changes and your husband won't have to worry about getting anyone's support."

"You're not going to hurt him, are you?" she asked.

"No more than what's already been planned," he said. "Unless, of course, your cowboys decide to play hero."

"Just be careful, Ian," she said. "I don't want to see you get hurt." He chuckled.

"Not a problem," he said. "Besides, I'll have one of our best officers with me."

"Okay, Ian," she said. "I love you and can't wait to see you again. I've bought some new lingerie just for you."

"Sounds like fun," he said. "I can't wait to rip it off your body." She giggled like a schoolgirl.

"Neither can I," she said. "See you soon. Bye." She ended the call and fell back on her bed, her eyes closed, fantasizing about having sex with her British lover. Before either one had put their phones away, however, Kyle's monitoring system had recorded the entire conversation and automatically sent audio and a full transcript to Oscar by secure email.

...

Oscar was listening to the audio he had just received while reading the transcript, all the while making notes. He inserted it on the whiteboard he had prepared for Bill's perusal. As soon as the audio was finished, there was a knock at his door. He turned off the recording and set the screensaver on his monitor.

"Enter," he commanded. The door opened and Oscar saw both Bill and Dr. Greene, the base chief medical officer. He motioned for both of them to enter his office and shook their hands, inviting them to sit down. He turned to Dr. Greene first.

"What have you found?" he asked. Dr. Greene consulted his notes.

"The autopsy report indicates that President Skaggs did, indeed, die from a massive heart attack," the doctor said. "However, the toxicology report found a substance the medical examiner said could cause a heart attack. They didn't have access to all of our information, unfortunately, but from what they found, it looks a lot like what your wife used on you," the doctor said, looking at Oscar. "They also found what looks like a puncture wound on the president's neck. At first they dismissed it as a mosquito bite, but closer examination indicates it's something else, like an injection site."

"So, it appears that something was injected into the president's neck, perhaps at the height of his sexual arousal, causing him to have a heart attack two hours later, is that what you're telling me?" Oscar asked.

"Based on everything I see here, yes," Dr. Greene said. Oscar nodded his head.

"Thank you, doctor, that will be all," Oscar said. "Please, leave the report here." Dr. Greene handed Oscar the report and excused himself. Oscar looked at Bill.

"Something doesn't add up," Oscar said. "Surely, investigators at the White House could've found this and made some arrests. It wouldn't have taken much for them to come to the same conclusions we have."