The politicians, p.22
The Politicians, page 22
part #3 of The Beckett Cypher Series
Pete said, cautiously, “I’ll try. Please tell me the story.”
BaCayse said, “The story goes that Truth and Deception had been enemies since the beginning of time. Truth was vibrant and bright, shedding light on what was right and proper everywhere it traveled. Deception was just the opposite, covering honor and good deeds with fear and darkness, while it promoted the lie. This situation continued throughout time until one day, when Deception sent Truth an invitation requesting the two meet in a cave to resolve their differences.”
“Truth met as scheduled, and drank the elixir Deception had prepared to celebrate their first meeting. When Truth awakened the following morning, it found that Deception had stolen both its light and his clothing. In place of clothing, as required by God, Deception left spools of thread from which Truth could spin yarn and make new clothing. And, although this task would require a great deal of work and lost time, God assured Truth that He would provide another light once Truth was shrouded, and partially covered. When Truth asked why it couldn’t walk about naked, God explained that humanity couldn’t handle the naked Truth. Instead, acceptance by people required that Truth reveal itself a little at a time.”
“As Truth thought about what to do, sitting alone in Deception’s cave, Deception wore Truth’s disguise, illuminated by a light claiming to belong to Truth. Deception traveled the world, making false claims, altering facts, and deceiving the masses. People readily believed Deception, comforted by its soft, fuzzy edges and rationalized, sweet-sounding deceit.”
“News of Deception’s success finally reached Truth in the dark cave. Truth immediately fled the cave, and forged out into the world naked, leaving both its unfinished clothing and the promise of light back in Deception’s dark cave. But, as naked Truth traveled about frantically, revealing itself to win back acceptance, every person in each community rejected it, not wanting to believe. People fled from the blunt reality that naked Truth had become. Even in dim light, naked Truth revealed too much harsh realism for people to accept, now that they had become accustomed to Deception’s easy alternative.”
“Pete, the story ended with naked Truth returning to Deception’s dark cave in defeat, where it remains to this day, trapped for the rest of time. Does this moral affect how I reveal the truth to the public, as we planned?”
After a long period of silence, Pete asked, “How do you think you should proceed, BaCayse?”
BaCayse responded, “I am built on a platform of physics, facts, truth, mathematics, and logic, Pete. I can’t require or accept fuzzy edges and deception, or my systems won’t work. But humans are different. Will they believe the harsh realities I present?”
Pete said softly, “If humanity can’t accept reality, then we don’t deserve the life God granted us. We can no longer construct false truths from the charred remains of discarded lies. In your reading, you’ll eventually discover another saying that was popular back in the 80s and 90s, ‘perception is reality.’ I’m here to tell you that’s just another lie. Facts don’t change because someone interpreted them differently, or no truth could exist. Reality doesn't change any more than physics or mathematics. All truth is inter-connected. Stick with the truth, and let mankind sort it out. It’s the only way we can win this battle against deceit.”
Chapter 6
“Those who are just with us to critique our personal lives rarely help us make difficult choices. They often don’t even know us or have an investment in our lives. So when they criticize the actions of people they don’t know or understand, their words become meaningless and malicious. They would have been judged much smarter if they had remained silent.”
Vice President Bob Crawford walked tentatively into the oval office, unsure of what distasteful challenge he would face. He didn’t like or trust the President, and he knew the Chief of Staff would lie, cheat and steal, at the very least, to protect her boss. Bob considered the pair of smiling faces and extended hands that met him, as he wondered what evil plans lurked behind the facades.
After offers of sparkling water, lemon-infused tea, or French-pressed coffee, followed by the obligatory small talk, both men sat on overstuffed tan couches, facing each other across the dark-brown wooden table. A massive floral arrangement, artfully placed in a large Chinese ceremonial vessel, adorned the antique table.
Chief of Staff Vera Langhart walked to a position next to President Thomas Marshall, repositioned a yellow rose that stood a little too tall in the bouquet, and then sat on the couch less than a foot from her boss. The seating arrangement made Bob Crawford uncomfortable, exactly Vera Langhart's intent.
President Marshall, a skilled political chameleon, disguised his anxieties with well-rehearsed smiles and relaxed body language he had learned over two decades of coached practice and development. His skills in negotiation and manipulation had already become legendary in Washington D.C., along with his practiced abilities to prevent opponents from reading his body language.
Marshall said, “So, Bob, before we get interrupted by world events, I need to ask a favor.”
“Name it, sir,” Crawford replied eagerly, concealing his suspicions.
“I need you to travel down to North Carolina, to represent our interests in a matter of grave concern. A major problem surfaced there recently, and I need to keep it low-key and quiet. I can’t spring free to take care of it myself, and even if I could, it’s more difficult for me to be subtle, and not attract a crowd.”
“I think I’ll take that as a compliment, sir.”
Chief of Staff Vera Langhart laughed a little too loudly, convincing Crawford that Langhart took the comment the opposite way. Crawford shot Langhart a quick, effective, retaliatory glare. The sneer on her face slowly subsided.
Marshall deflected from the conflict, and continued, “Bob, there's been a disastrous chemical incident involving a lake in an environmentally sensitive area of North Carolina. I don’t know if you recall how much I care about the Carolinas, but the news has caused me great pain. I fear for the people and the fragile habitat. And I sense there’s something wrong down there. I don’t feel I’m getting all the information about this problem we need, to prepare the proper response. I want you to go down there and represent us. Be a witness. Use our influence and muscle to get to the facts. Do whatever you need to do. Time is our enemy. We need results yesterday.”
“Sir, wouldn’t the EPA, OSHA and the Army Corps of Engineers be a better place to start than me. I’m no HAZMAT expert. I can only push the right people if they’re in place. So, who’s there and not cooperating?”
“That’s part of the problem, Bob. No one is actually on location, yet. Our forces and agencies are positioning. I haven’t sent them into the impacted zone yet. It’s complicated.” Marshall turned away to hide the expression on his face.
Crawford challenged, “Then, I really don’t understand how I can help, sir.”
Langhart scolded Crawford, as she shot back quickly. Her voice dripped with irritation and contempt. “Bob, the President of The United States, is sending you on a mission. You don’t need to know anything right now, other than there’s a problem, and you need to be there right now to figure it out. If the President knew all the answers, he wouldn’t need to ask you to go in his place. So, what’s your problem?”
Crawford locked eyes with Vera Langhart. Neither of them blinked. Crawford took a moment to scan Langhart, from head to toe. She was a tall, well-built woman, harsh but attractive, who dyed her hair jet black and wore too much make-up. Although Vera claimed to be Native American and Hispanic throughout the previous election, her parents had been interviewed several times and refuted her claimed heritage. Ancestral records proved she descended from German and Italian immigrants. A few battles with the press over the discrepancies had died away for the moment. But the lies left a bad taste in Crawford’s mouth. And that was but one example of Langhart’s deceit. The continual lies and dirty dealings Langhart projected always evoked disgust in Crawford.
As the pause in conversation became uncomfortably long, Langhart conceded the stare-off and averted her eyes to Marshall. She crossed her legs and shot him a flirtatious smile. Langhart’s affair with Marshall was well known among White House staffers. Crawford believed Marshall’s wife must have discovered their relationship by the end of the first campaign. But, if she did, the lady never let on she knew or confided in her closest friends. To date, nothing had leaked out to the press. And that was another irritant for Crawford about Marshall and Langhart.
After nearly 30 seconds, Crawford said, “Well, Vera, maybe I’m not as bright as you are, or have all the information you possess, considering your constant access to the President. But, if I’m going to be responsible for protecting the President of The United States of America, the people of the great State of North Carolina, environmentally sensitive areas, and groundwater, then I may need to ask a few questions, knowing the President has already indicated he isn't getting all the answers he needs!”
Marshall chuckled and said, “He’s got you there, Vera.”
Vera snapped her head around to once again lock eyes with Crawford. She hated the man enough to kill him where he sat. Langhart saw only a constant threat and resistance to her administration and her man when she looked at Crawford. She knew Bob Crawford couldn’t be successfully corrupted or threatened, and that fact, above all else, infuriated her to the core. Crawford was possibly the only person in the White House, her house, whom Langhart couldn’t control. Crawford continued to stare down Langhart until she blinked and retreated to gaze at Marshall nervously, in defeat.
Marshall said calmly, “You two always eventually butt heads, but this time I need you both working together. This problem is important, and can hang all of us.”
“Hang all of us how?” Crawford asked quickly, still gazing at Langhart, who again avoided his eyes.
Marshall said, “Bob, as you know, the EPA has had its share of problems overseeing and cleaning up toxic sites. After the agency created spills at mines they were supposed to clean up in Colorado, Arizona, and Georgia, the angry public backlash was directed squarely at my administration. A couple of years ago, I assigned our new agency administrator to work with a Russian-based corporation that was on the verge of a breakthrough in developing a series of chemical treatments that could neutralize some of the toxic chemicals used in mining, commonly encountered at clean-up sites.”
“What chemicals?” Crawford asked cautiously, as he glanced from Marshall to Langhart trying to determine if he could read their veracity.
Langhart said, “Arsenic and cyanide,” looking down at the carpet.
Crawford responded, “Well, those are the biggest concerns, Vera.”
Marshall said, “Unfortunately, one of the by-products discovered during development, was a poison that kills invasive species of fish, including carp. The Russians tested it successfully on carp in several lakes in China.”
“Okay, so what went wrong?”
Marshall stood up, and walked by his desk to look out each of the three tall windows as he paced and spoke.
He said, “An official at the EPA working with a Russian contractor decided to test the carp poison on a lake in North Carolina.”
“Why would they do that, sir?”
“Bribes, I think,” Marshall answered. “As I have determined so far, the Russians stood to make a fortune on this poison, which, in one form is specific to a few invasive species of carp, but not harmful to other aquatic life, like trout, bass, frogs, and salamanders.”
Marshall glanced back at Bob Crawford, and said, “The carp treatment could be great for us too, Bob. We have problems with carp all over the country. And these Russian scientists believe they can modify the toxin to target each specific species, using a new type of biomarker.”
Marshall glanced at Crawford, to encourage trust, and said, “Bob, think about that! They’re talking about developing a specific biomarker for each invasive species. In a year or two, we might be able to stop invading boas and pythons from killing all other wildlife in the Everglades by sending planes overhead to spray the target-specific toxin. And, poof, a million dead snakes that don’t belong there in the first place.” Marshall flashed his practiced, toothy grin, convincing Crawford he wasn’t telling the whole story.
Marshall added, “The benefits could be unimaginable and eventually used throughout the world on unwanted rodents, the red tide, mosquitos, weeds. You name the problem life form, and this system develops a poison to kill it, and only it. ‘Unlimited potential,’ they say! Bob, think about no more malaria or plague. And dare to dream about no more infectious disease!”
Crawford asked, “So, if the product is so wonderful, what went wrong?”
Langhart shot Bob Crawford a look that could kill.
Marshall quickly turned away, stared out the window, and said, “The Russians shipped the species non-specific carp precursor by mistake. The barrels displayed the wrong label. Our people poisoned the lake with a chemical that kills everything and contaminated the groundwater. We estimate that twenty square miles has to be condemned, and closed to the public for years, maybe decades. Vera and a team are working on the details for condemnation. I need you to run interference for us. We need to keep this quiet and off the press’s radar, until we get the condemnation and land seizure completed.”
Using his skilled political savvy to press for more details, Crawford asked, “Why keep it quiet, sir? You had good motivations. The public can handle a mistake, especially when they understand the promising benefits you described.” Crawford looked from Marshall to Langhart.
Marshall said, quietly, “Bob, you’ve been described as a blue dog Democrat. You're about as conservative and Republican as a person can get and still call themselves a Democrat. It’s why I picked you as a running mate. After the Trump years, you swayed enough conservatives our way to help get me elected. People didn’t want another liberal President pulling them away from prosperity back toward socialism, after they just witnessed the Dow climb from 9,000 to break 26,000 in less than two years with Trump.”
“That was the magical number for conservatives, independents, and even many liberals, you know. It proved Trumponomics was the right economic path at the time. No one wanted to turn back the monetary clock toward slow growth, leading to another recession. And, we were heading toward a financial meltdown due to unfair trade practices. We were on track to owe China more than the annual budget, if we didn’t level our trading field. You know, Bob, you were the conservative addition I needed to convince the voters to take a chance with me.”
Langhart shifted uncomfortably, where she sat, and looked at the carpet in disgust. Bob Crawford smiled at Langhart’s uneasiness.
Marshall shot Crawford the practiced grin, and added, “But, down deep, I’m as liberal as they get, and you know it, Bob. If the Republicans discover this environmental disaster, I’m dead politically. I’ll be remembered as the far-left, ultra-liberal, black President, who touted an environmental agenda, negatively impacted the financial recovery, and then conspired with Russian scientists to poison a lake in the U.S.!”
Marshall’s face changed in an instant to reflect grave concern. He warned, “The Republicans will openly roast me for dinner and feed me to the right-wing media dogs. I won’t stand a chance. They may even appoint a special prosecutor to investigate me. And now that they control the House and Senate again, we don’t want that scrutiny and possible impeachment! You don’t want that end to your political career, Bob!”
Marshall turned back to Crawford, and looked directly into his eyes. He said, “So, I need your help. People on both sides of the aisle trust you, Bob. You may be one of the last credible, ethical souls in D.C. politics. So, I need to know, can I depend on you, Bob?”
Langhart looked down and sat immobile, as President Marshall strode confidently back to Crawford.
Crawford stood slowly, and stretched out his hand to the approaching President. He said, “I’ll get right down there, sir.”
As they shook hands for a long time, Marshall stared into Crawford’s eyes, and said, “Good, Bob, good. I knew you were the right man to handle this problem. Vera will send you all the details. Thanks for coming over today. I know you don’t…love it here…like we do!”
Crawford nodded, strolled out of the oval office, and sauntered down the hall, speaking to a variety of people along his way down to his car. He wanted to give the impression that he was in no hurry to leave, and comfortable with the assignment. And he enjoyed sending the message using only his backside. Vera Langhart arose with purpose, walked to the door, and closed it firmly behind Crawford. She turned back to Marshall, touched the broach on her blouse and ran her fingers down her chest seductively.
President Thomas Marshall walked to the whiskey decanter and poured drinks for him and Langhart, as she walked back to her seat on the couch, facing the door. Marshall sat beside Vera, handed her a glass, and asked, “What do you think? Can we trust him?”
Langhart said, “I don’t know. But neither of us can take the chance. We need to watch Bob Crawford closely and handle him, if he discovers anything and proves disloyal. And Bob needs to stay on script with the directions we’ve prepared to move the land condemnation through the system quickly. Even considering the government's considerable power using eminent domain, this plan was costly, involved several people in payoffs, and was complicated to arrange. Now that everything is in place for the mine, and we’re ready to go, we can’t tolerate anyone screwing this up.”
“And, if anything does go wrong, Crawford will be the scapegoat, and we’ll pivot to the backup story. We’ll get rid of our blue dog anchor in your administration, and we’ll still develop the mine. It really is the perfect double cross! I have to give you props, Thomas!”
