Oath of Office

“…allegations of silencing anyone who gets in his way, politically or otherwise, are incredibly troubling,” Chadwick went on, “but perhaps even worse is Ryan’s utter disregard for our allies in the Persian Gulf. My colleagues in the Senate and I intend to move forward with strong measures condemning the brutal crackdown of the Ayatollah against peaceful students who only want a better life.” Chadwick looked directly into the camera, working it like the actress she was. “I say to you, Mr. President, do not just sit on your hands. Do something…”

A growl erupted deep in Montgomery’s belly. “You want somebody to do something?” he said. “How about I—”

Garcia jabbed him with her elbow. “I know you weren’t about to threaten a United States senator right in front of an assistant director of the FBI.”

Montgomery forced a smile. “I plead the Fifth.”

* * *

Arnie van Damm sat down beside Mary Pat Foley on the couch in the private study just off the Oval Office, and then sprang back to his feet half a moment later, cursing at the open laptop computer on the corner of the desk. The meeting with the principals of the National Security Council was over for now, everyone having gone their respective ways, coming up with information, options, plans — tasks Ryan would need to make decisions about.

Ryan slouched in the soft chair across from the couch, legs stretched out in front of him. Cathy said slouching was decidedly unpresidential, but this was his slouching room, away from the media and the peephole into the Oval from the door to the secretaries’ suite.

This thing in Cameroon left him feeling helpless. There was still no word on the deputy chief of mission’s wife — which meant she was still likely a hostage. Hell, the embassy was surrounded by troops, which meant that for all practical purposes everyone inside was a hostage. Ryan wanted to send in a battalion of Marines and bayonet every last son of a bitch that got in their way — but that was the reason people took hostages, wasn’t it. To keep from getting bayoneted from the start. It was usually just postponing the inevitable.

Across the office, van Damm was taking a break from worrying about the hostage crisis to shake his fist at a video of Senator Chadwick’s earlier press conference. He sat down again, the veins on the side of his neck pulsing above his collar. “She’s crossing the line, Jack.”

Ryan looked up, jarred from his thoughts about Africa. “Not quite. Notice how she couches all her remarks and tweets under the guise of wanting to find the truth?”

Foley squinted at the computer like her face hurt. “Intimidation of your political opponents? Where did she get that from?”

Ryan shrugged. “Beats me.”

“What does she have against the administration?” Foley asked.

“I’m telling you,” Ryan said. “It’s me personally. For some reason, she finds me the ultimate villain that must be thwarted. Sometimes I think she’s evil — and other times, I think she truly believes I am.”

Van Damm leaned his head back, giving an exhausted sigh. “Yeah, but your own private goon squad?”

Ryan rubbed his face, suddenly very tired. “She’s not a hundred percent wrong there. I mean, they’re not goons, but you know what I mean.”

Foley said, “Due respect, Jack, but that is not what she means. The Campus is a scalpel. She’s talking about some sort of Robert Rogers’s Queen’s Rangers. Wanton killers. And anyway, we shouldn’t even be talking about it.”

“Why?” Ryan asked. “So I can have some kind of deniability? That’s not me and you know it. I’m all for separating myself from day-to-day operations, but I will not relinquish the responsibility for the group’s existence.”

“Jack.” Foley’s tone rose in pitch, fearing the path the conversation was taking. “Secrecy is par—”

Ryan put up hand. “Don’t misunderstand me, Mary Pat. I get the need for secrecy. But you and I don’t… can’t pretend I’m not aware of what’s going on. There’s a difference between executive privilege and lying — even to ourselves.”

Foley started to say something, then shook her head, thinking better of it. “Yes, Mr. President.”

“In any case,” van Damm said. “If you two are done with your existential crisis, let’s get back to what to do about Senator Chadwick. I hate to say this, but maybe you should respond. Clear your name.”

“Not a chance, pal,” Ryan said. “She wants me to engage her, but I’m not getting down in that mud. I will, however, entertain a press conference to discuss any fears about the flu vaccine.”