Kompromat

‘Whereas it appears to be possible, if not probable, that Ronald C. Craig may unwittingly have been the target of an unauthorized attack by a hypodermic dart or some other intervention while visiting the Russian Far East…

‘Whereas it is necessary though a clinical examination to establish whether such an attack or intervention has indeed taken place and to take all appropriate measures…

‘Whereas the implications for national security of the said event need to be fully evaluated…

‘Now therefore: I, President of the United States, have decided and determined that the said Ronald C. Craig should be immediately brought by federal marshals to the Walter Reed Medical Centre, Bethesda, Maryland, and that the said federal marshals are authorized to use all necessary means, including force, toward that end.

‘Signed, Brandon Matlock, 44th President of the United States, May 18th, 2016’

As Jimmy Redmond rolled the parchment up, Craig protested, ‘I’m not coming. I’ll call my lawyers. I’ll take you to court. Executive Orders can be challenged in the courts. A federal judge can grant a stay of execution. I know quite a few federal judges and believe me they listen to me.’

Jimmy Redmond shook his head. ‘Don’t go there, sir. That’s not a good line to take. You had better come along with us. In the state of Florida, resisting arrest is a pretty serious crime. You wouldn’t want that on your record. Not when you’re running for the highest office in the land. Besides, it’s not all bad news. I didn’t read you the PS, the postscript as I believe it’s called.’

‘I didn’t think executive orders had PSs.’

‘This one does. It says. PS: I am hereby making available Air Force One to the federal marshals for the discharge of the aforementioned task.’

‘You better go, Dad,’ Rosie Craig said. ‘No point in fighting this one.’

Ron Craig looked at his daughter. He respected her judgement. She was one of the few people he trusted.

‘You think so?’

‘Yes, I think so.’

‘Who’s going to look after Ed Barnard? I wanted to take him to the Everglades tomorrow. Show him some alligators.’

‘I’ll do that, Dad. I haven’t been to the Everglades for months. You go to Washington. There are plenty of alligators there! They just want to give you a check-up. You’ll probably be back by tomorrow.’

Pedro Gonzales looked at his watch. ‘Take-off is in forty-five minutes. We had better get going.’

‘Okay, I’m coming. Just put the handcuffs way.’

Air Force One? Craig rather liked the sound of that anyway. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to check the plane out ahead of time. And besides, deep down, he knew it didn’t pay to quarrel with Uncle Sam. Not seriously. If you did, you could find yourself in trouble. Of course, once he made it to the top, the very top, it might be a different matter.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The Walter Reed National Military Medical Center, in Bethesda, Maryland, colloquially known as Walter Reed, had a proud history of serving US presidents. President Kennedy’s body was brought there in November 1963 for the official autopsy after his assassination in Dallas, Texas. President Eisenhower actually died there in 1969. And in July 1985, President Reagan went in to have some polyps removed from his colon. Craig couldn’t help feeling, as the helicopter whisked him to the medical center on the short hop from Andrews Airforce base that, in some obscure way, he was already treading destiny’s path. One way or another, Walter Reed loomed large in the life (or death) of most US Presidents.

Bud Hollingsworth, CIA director, was waiting for him at the entrance. ‘Thanks for coming in, Ron,’ he said.

Craig pointedly ignored the outstretched hand. ‘I don’t think I had any choice. Do you mind telling me what this is all about?’

‘I can’t say much. Classified. Need to know.’

Craig exploded. ‘If anyone has a need to know, I do.’