Legacy - 45. Transition Plan - Jeremy Kimball

“You look awful, Dad,” I heard my son say as I stared down into my full cup of coffee. “You haven’t even touched your coffee, he went on, and I bet you haven’t had anything to eat yet, have you?”

Finally looking up into his face, I saw nothing but concern. Scarcely a week had passed since he’d lost one of his fathers and, here he was, worrying about his other dad too.

“I’m sorry, Josh,” I finally managed to say. “There’s just been so much going on and I’m not getting nearly enough sleep. I guess it’s starting to take its toll. And now . . . well, I can’t tell you the latest, but I don’t know what we’re going to do at this point. Uncle Trevor and Uncle Kurt will be here any minute, and some of the others, too. They’ll be looking to me for direction and I haven’t a clue what to do.”

“Dad,” my son began, “I know a lot more about what’s going on than you think. You already know how me and my friends figured out about how you pulled the rug out from under Schroeder. Judging from how you’ve been acting since that call this morning, I’m guessing Schroeder ended up pulling the plug on himself.”

Much as I tried to control my reaction, it was hard to hide my shock at Josh’s keen observations. He was right on the money and he knew it, which he confirmed a moment later when he said, “I’m right, aren’t I?” as a broad grin took over his face.

“Josh,” I replied, “you cannot begin to understand how serious the situation is . . .”

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” he responded. “Oops, sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to swear like that but, just because I’m only fifteen doesn’t mean I’m dumb,” he added as he stroked the stubble on his face as if to emphasize how much he really had grown up.

“You’re anything but dumb,” I countered.

“And don’t you forget it,” he continued. “Of course you have to let the American public know . . . and the world, but the world is already in a fragile state from Pop’s, Solomon’s and Richards’ assassinations, not to mention Uncle Altaf’s kidnapping. If you delay announcing Schroeder’s death any, people will automatically assume you had something to do with it. But if you announce it right away, you might be putting lives in danger, and you’ll give the fuckers who killed Pop time to escape to safety. Oops, sorry again.”

“No, you’re right, they are fuckers,” I replied with a yawn, which made Josh giggle with that sweet laugh only he could make.

“You need to drink your coffee, Dad,” Josh added. “Speaking of which, is there any left?”

“I haven’t even touched what’s in my mug yet . . . and I made a whole pot,” I answered.

“Great,” he answered and he got up and poured himself his own mug full, adding enough cream and sugar to make me wonder why he even bothered with the coffee.

“So where’s your sister?” I asked.

“She left to grab some breakfast over an hour ago,” he answered.

“And how about your boyfriend?” I added.

“Alan’s folks thought maybe we were rushing things,” he answered with eyes somewhat downcast, “and I guess they wanted some time alone with him. This being Sunday, they’re going to one of the church services and then I’m meeting up with them at eleven for what passes for a Sunday brunch around here.” Then looking up at me, he added, “I guess we kinda had spent all our time together since we met, day and night.”

“Even married couples don’t spend that kind of time together, Joshy,” I pointed out. “You can’t grow as a couple unless you two learn how to continue to grow as individuals.”

“Yeah, I get that, Dad,” Josh replied. “It’s just that . . .”

“That you’re in love,” I answered for my son.

“Yeah, we are,” Josh agreed. “When we’re not together, I miss him so bad. I can’t stand being apart.”

“To you love is all new and exciting,” I explained, “but the excitement doesn’t last . . . not like what you’re experiencing now, anyway. If it’s real, there will still be excitement, even thirty years from now, but there’ll be so much more. You may only spend a few waking hours a day with your beloved, but that time together will sustain you for a lifetime.”

The sound of the door chime alerted me that our guests had arrived.

“I guess I’d better get ready,” Josh responded and then quickly headed to the bathroom, leaving his coffee behind.

I opened the door to find Trevor, Kurt, Brad, Debbie and, much to my surprise, Will Kramer. Tagging along behind them, trying to appear unobtrusive but being anything but, was Bruce Warren. I hated the idea of having an independent reporter involved but understood the necessity.

“Come on in, guys,” I said as I opened the door wide. It was then that I noticed Trevor was carrying a large grocery bag and Kurt, true to his priorities, was carrying a tray with seven large coffees. Trevor set the bag down on the counter and pulled out paper plates, plastic knives, a large tub of cream cheese and what must have been a full pound of lox. He left the bag open wide to reveal what had to be at least two dozen bagels.

“Where did you get these?” I asked as I grabbed a bagel and started to slice it in two.

“I had Henry pick them up in Georgetown while he was getting Will,” Kurt answered.

Josh chose just that moment to emerge from the bathroom, clean-shaven and dressed only in a towel around his waist, and a smile. “Oh wow,” he said as he made a bee-line for the bag of bagels, grabbed one from inside and started to slice it open.

“I thought you were going to have Sunday brunch with your boyfriend and his family,” I commented.

“I am,” Josh replied, “but by the time we get our food and are seated, that’s gonna be at least an hour away. Besides, I’m starving!”

Since all of the adults in the room had either raised or were raising teenage sons, we all broke into laughter, causing poor Joshy to blush all over his face and chest.

“I can’t get over how much you’ve grown, Josh,” Will said. “You look as tall as your pop did at your age . . .”

“He’s taller,” I interrupted, “he’s already six-foot four.”

“And you even have a few hairs on your chest,” Will added, making Josh blush even deeper.

“He certainly didn’t get that from me,” I noted. “Indeed, he already shaves every day, just like David did at his age.”

Perhaps to shy away from all the attention, Josh reached around behind him to grab his coffee mug from where he left it but, in the process of turning back to face us, the edge of his towel caught on one of the chair backs. As he continued to turn, the towel pulled away and dropped to the floor, leaving poor Josh fully exposed.

Standing with a bagel in his left hand and his coffee in his right hand, he couldn’t easily put them down to grab the towel and pull it back up, so he just stood there, blushing deeply. At his age I would have been mortified, as I’m sure Josh was, but rather than run from the room as I probably would have, he got a grin on his face, shrugged his shoulders and said, “God, this is sooo embarrassing but, as long as you’re talking about how much I’ve grown . . .”

As everyone chuckled, I couldn’t help but think, ‘Did my son really say that?’ It had been a few years since I’d last seen him in the nude and, yes, he certainly had grown. Like his pop, his equipment was proportional to his height, which was to say, very long indeed. Most teens are incredibly self-conscious when it comes to their bodies yet, here was my son, standing nude in front of a group of adults and making light of accidentally exposing himself.

Still smiling, he continued, “As much as I’m enjoying the conversation, I feel a little naked here,” which gave us all a good laugh. “So if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna get dressed.” Even then he didn’t make a run for it. He calmly set his coffee and bagel down on the counter, bent down and picked up his towel off the floor, giving the group a nice view of his ass, and then he casually strolled out of the room, carrying his towel at his side.

After Josh had closed his bedroom door behind him, Kurt said, “Now that took balls!”

To which Debbie added, “and he certainly has them.”

“Lucky boyfriend,” Will chimed in. “Speaking of which, who is the lucky guy?”

“Alan Taylor-Williams,” I answered.

“Zach and Kevin’s boy?” Will asked and I nodded. “Man, I saw him shirtless, playing basketball with some of our kids the other day. He’s one of the best looking boys I’ve ever seen. So is Josh, for that matter. Can you imagine what kind of kids the two of them might have?”

“Probably butt-ugly,” Debbie joked, earning scowls from all of us. “Well, it hardly seems fair for all the ‘good looks’ genes to be concentrated among the few, so I just thought it would be a fitting irony if their kids weren’t so attractive.”

“Nice try, but it doesn’t work that way,” Will countered. “Besides which, it’s better for the rest of us that there are people like us with whom to mate. You know, attractive, but not gorgeous.”

“But Debbie’s wife is drop-dead gorgeous,” Trevor pointed out.

“Are you saying I’m not drop-dead gorgeous, Trevor?” Debbie countered with a piercing stare.

Swallowing hard as he realized he’d squarely put his foot in his mouth, Trevor replied, “Not at all, Deb.”

“Oh come on, Trevor,” Debbie laughed. “I’m about as butch as they come. You can be honest. I look like a stereotypic dyke and not a very attractive one at that. The important thing is that Cathy thinks I’m beautiful. That’s really the only thing that matters.”

“Here’s to our spouses,” Kurt said as he held his coffee cup high.

”To our spouses,” everyone chimed in as we all touched our paper coffee cups to each other. Kurt and Trevor then kissed sweetly - they were the only couple present in the room.

“So . . . what is it that takes me away from my usual Sunday brunch with my family this fine day?” Will asked, signalling he was ready to get down to business.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Josh to leave?” Bruce asked.

Laughing, I replied, “He’s already figured it out.”

“Really?” Trevor asked in surprise. “Smart boy, just like his dad.”

“Does this have something to do with Schroeder’s disappearance?” Will asked and when no one responded, he added, “Come on, now. The lack of any kind of information from the White House in the face of events in the Middle East is all anyone can talk about. The media are speculating everything from the President being on his way to the Middle East on a secret mission to broker a new peace deal, to him going into hiding out of fear for his life.”

At that point Josh re-entered the room and said, “So no one’s guessed that he offed himself?”

“WHAT?” Will exclaimed.

“President Schroeder committed suicide,” Josh clarified. “He checked himself out. He called it quits. He bowed out early. He . . .”

“We get the idea, Josh,” I interrupted.

“Are you serious?” Will asked and then he turned to me and asked, “Is he right about that?”

“Schroeder hanged himself from the chandelier in his Congressional office,” I confirmed.

“Holy fuck!” Will exclaimed and he plopped himself down into one of the living room chairs. “Have you been sworn in yet, Jer? Have you notified the media? Are you going to hold a press conference?”

“The answer to all of those is ‘no’, Will,” I replied and, just as he was about to respond, I held up my hand and added, “Let me explain.”

And I did explain, although Josh kept interrupting with his own take on things until his boyfriend called to remind him of the time and that their family was waiting on him. Gees, Josh was fifteen going on fifty.

No sooner had Josh left our quarters than Will started in with, “For fuck’s sake, Jeremy. What the hell were you thinking? You can’t just invoke the Twenty-Fifth and then sit on it. You are obligated to notify the President Pro Tempora of the Senate and the Speaker of the House, at which point the President is removed from office. You can’t hold it over the President’s head and use it to blackmail him. You just can’t do that. What you did was to trample on the Constitution. It’s treason, Jer. Even if you aren’t impeached for it . . . Even if you aren’t tried for it . . . Even if you don’t go to jail for it or aren’t hanged for it, Roberts will never swear you in as President. How can you take an oath to uphold the Constitution when you so blatantly ignored it?”

“So tell me where the twenty-fifth amendment says anything about a time limit on notifying the President Pro Tempora and the Speaker? Not that we even have a Speaker of the House. It says nothing about giving notification in a timely manner, does it? I can still uphold my constitutional mandate.”

“Except that the President is now dead and, even though you didn’t force him to hang himself, still you had a lot to do with him taking his own life,” Will countered. “And the amendment specifies that Congress has four days to respond . . .”

“Thirty days when they're not in session,” I pointed out, “and the House did go into recess without even electing a new Speaker . . .”

“Whether or not they’re literally in session may be open to debate,” Will went on, but the intent of the amendment is clear. The Vice-President has an obligation to notify the appropriate parties immediately so that Congress can fulfill its Constitutional mandate within as little as a four-day timeframe.

“And what about what you did to Schroeder?” Will continued. “You didn’t exactly leave him in place as President after all, did you? You used the threat of removal from office to blackmail him. You removed him from his Constitutional role as Commander in Chief. In effect, you did remove him from office . . . you just didn't comply with timely notification so that Congress could act on it.”

“Will,” I countered, “when faced with the dissolution of the Union, President Lincoln, arguably one of the greatest Presidents of all time, reinterpreted much of the Constitution to conform to the realities of civil war.”

“That didn’t make it right, Jer, and we aren’t at war,” Will replied.

“Aren’t we?” I asked. “Two presidents are dead as is the Israeli Prime Minister. Our Secretary of State was assassinated and her replacement has been kidnapped. We now know that he as well as the Palestinian Prime Minister and an American police detective are buried under twelve hundred meters of solid rock, with little hope of survival. Oh, and to top things off, a nuclear device was detonated in the Middle East.”

“Someone detonated a nuclear warhead?” Will asked incredulously.

“It’s . . . complicated,” Trevor replied.

“The bottom line is that America has never faced a more perilous time in its history,” I stated with certainty. “This is every bit as serious as the shots fired at Fort Sumpter, or the Japanese bombing of Pearl Harbor, or 9/11 for that matter. Perhaps even more so. There was more bending of the Constitution following each of those events than anything I have done throughout this crisis.”

“That’s a matter of opinion, Jer,” Will countered. “However, I understand where you’re coming from and why you did what you did. I just cannot defend it against the Constitution of the United States. At least you aren’t trying to sweep it under the rug. The fact that you’ve invited a respected member of the news media to witness these discussions speaks volumes . . . and you invited me.”

“Modest, are we?” Debbie commented.

“He has no reason to be,” Bruce responded. “He is one of the foremost authorities on Constitutional Law in the U.S.”

“So is Jeremy,” Kurt added. “Jer may not be a legal scholar the way Will is, but he graduated first in his class at Harvard, he clerked for the Supreme Court and he has spent most of his life in politics . . .”

“And he’s written some absolutely brilliant essays,” Will acknowledged. “I may be technically right, but I wouldn’t want to debate Jeremy in front of the Supreme Court.”

“You may well get your chance,” I chimed in, meaning to imply that Will could well be the next Chief Justice, but Will just looked at me with a funny look on his face, not fully understanding where I was going with that comment.

Sighing, Will continued, “I doubt that I would have made the same choices, Jer, but I’m not a politician. I'm much more a theorist than a pragmatist. Roberts, on the other hand, is very much a pragmatist. He’s not likely to create a Constitutional crisis by suggesting you’re not fit to be President. And even if he did, there’s no Speaker of the House and the President Pro Tempore of the Senate is a flaming liberal. I suspect he’d be willing to overlook even worse sins to see a centrist like you installed in the White House.

“So, putting aside for the moment the issues surrounding invoking the twenty-fifth, what are you going to do regarding Schroeder’s suicide?” Will asked. “I am correct in assuming we know it’s a suicide, aren’t I?”

After a period of silence, Trevor answered, “Schroeder left a suicide recording in which he explains what he is about to do and why. He even went as far as to record him hanging himself, leaving little room for doubt from anyone who watches the holo-recording. Unfortunately, all of this could have been faked. Hell, I could have done it . . . it would have been trivial for me.”

“It would be trivial for you to prove the existence of Big Foot, Hon,” Kurt countered. “Your abilities don’t count.”

“Yeah, but what Trevor is saying is that with enough money and talent,” Debbie responded, “anyone could have faked Schroeder’s suicide. We could still be looking at an assassination here.”

“And if that were the case, I’d be the first suspect,” I added.

“How long before you’ll have the autopsy results?” Bruce asked.

“We already know Schroeder died from a hangman’s fracture,” Trevor answered. “Schroeder was alive at the time he broke his neck. That doesn't prove he wasn’t drugged, however, and it will be a few days before we have the full results of the toxicology analysis.

“A thorough analysis of the recording Schroeder made will take nearly a week, but it should prove beyond a doubt that there was no overt tampering with it.”

“With what we know, can we get enough of a preliminary read on both today to conclude beyond a reasonable doubt that Schroeder committed suicide?” Bruce asked.

“By the end of the day, with 90% certainty or more,” Trevor answered. “By tomorrow morning, with 99% certainty. Unfortunately if there was foul play involved, it will almost certainly involve that fraction of a percent of uncertainty. We would be dealing with the most skilled of professionals.”

“We can’t wait until the end of the week to be certain before we go public,” I said. “By then it might not matter anymore. We could well be at war . . . or worse.”

“So 99% will have to be good enough?” Trevor asked.

Shaking my head, I replied, “We aren’t going to have 99%. Even tomorrow would be too late. I would have no credibility whatsoever if I sat on this until the morning. We have to let the American People, and the world, know what’s happening, and we have to do it today.”

“Today!” Trevor shouted. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“I happen to agree with Jeremy on this one,” Will chimed in. “Jeremy cannot afford to sit on Schroeder’s death any longer. He has to announce it today. He has to hold a press conference today. I’d preferred he’d have done it already, but tonight is acceptable. Tomorrow morning is not. You’ll all hang for treason if you wait that long. Hell, I’ll probably hang right along with you.”

“What’s the latest I can hold a press conference tonight?” I asked Kurt.

“On a Sunday night, nine o’clock Eastern Daylight Time is it,” he answered. “You have to start no later than 9:00.”

“Honey, that’s not even ten hours from now!” Trevor complained.

“Sometimes our only choices are between bad and worse,” I pointed out.

“Is there any chance of speeding the analysis up?” Bruce asked Trevor.

It was Debbie, however, who spoke up. “Seven years ago, Homeland Security began upgrading computers throughout all of its subservient agencies. There is a little-known hack installed on all systems that was authorized by the previous president and that allows the sitting president to commandeer the entire network of resources of Homeland Security in a time of national emergency. With the three FBI mainframes here in Washington, all of the computers in all the field offices, all the computers in FEMA, the TSA, the Secret Service, Immigration, the Coast Guard and so on, we have the ability to create a huge, networked super computer to rival anything on earth.”

“With that much computing power, assuming you could deploy the necessary software, how far could you get by nine PM?” I asked.

“Deploying the software can be done in minutes,” Trevor replied. “That is not an issue. “I didn’t get where I am today by waiting for a situation to develop to find a solution. My software can load itself on any computer or computer network, complete a given task and remove itself when it’s finished, all without human intervention.

“With such a hodgepodge of computers, it’s difficult to predict what can be done . . .”

“I can give you access to fifteen hundred yottaflops, Trev,” Debbie interrupted.

“That’s impressive, but it still doesn’t tell me anything about the efficiency of how well the computers would work together . . .”

“Can you give us a ballpark figure, Trev?” I asked.

“I think I can get you anywhere from 99.8 to 99.99% certainty by the time of a 9:00 press conference,” Trevor answered.

Smiling, I replied, “That should be enough, but you’d better get going on it. The sooner you get started, the more accurate the results will be.”

“I’ll get started on it now,” Trev replied as he walked over to the data access terminal over on the kitchen counter and started entering commands. Before we even had a chance to discuss another subject, Trevor called out, “Deb, I need to know how to access the protocol for commandeering the network.”

“It’s under DHS protocol code name ‘Stinky Laughter’,” Debbie replied.

“Stinky Laughter?” I asked.

“I like whimsical names,” she replied, “and besides which, who would ever think to look for a name like that?” she asked.

“Certainly not I,” I replied with a laugh.

“Jer, I need your eyes,” Trevor called out a moment later.

Walking over to my life-long friend, I submitted to a retina scan and Trevor then announced, “OK, I’m in and all DHS computers are now mine, with the exception of course of critical systems such as air traffic control, that is. Now I just have to upload the recording made by Schroeder and upload my analysis routines, and we should have a near-certain answer by the end of the day.”

“Well, that takes care of Schroeder’s recording, but what about the autopsy results?” Bruce asked.

“We’re already running the fastest assays known to humankind,” Debbie replied. “Unless you can find a way to alter the space-time continuum, some things just can’t be speeded up.”

“Oh well, I guess the data analysis should be sufficient if it checks out OK,” Bruce responded. “It’s highly unlikely the data analysis would come back clean if Schroeder were a victim of foul play.”

“Precisely,” Debbie agreed.

“Holy fuck!” Trevor suddenly called out. “There’s data buried in here.”

“What do you mean by, ‘There’s data buried in here’?” I asked.

“I mean that there’s a very large data stream interlaced with the holographic images. Not surprisingly, he used a grade school-level technique but, nevertheless, it’s well enough buried that a casual examination wouldn’t have revealed anything more than a video stream.”

“What exactly is there, Trev?” I asked.

“Information,” Trevor replied. “Information Schroeder didn’t want revealed except to me. He evidently knew I would be the one to find it.”

“How can you be so sure,” Kurt asked.

“Because he said so,” Trevor replied. “Listen to this:

‘Dear Dr. Austin, please accept my sincere apology for all I have put you through. I did what I thought was expedient at the time and, like anyone else, I defended myself when you put me under attack. As much as I tried to deny it, however, you were right. Those I had long associated with had a sinister agenda at heart and it is clear that they are behind the assassinations and terrorist episodes of the past week. I am so sorry your friend died as a result. I am even sorrier that the world lost such an outstanding leader, even though we didn’t see eye-to-eye.

‘Until you presented your evidence, I was convinced I was acting in America’s best interest. You have to believe me when I state emphatically that I did not intend to see David Reynolds killed, much as I thought his Middle East policy was misguided. I firmly believed that the peace agreement negotiated by President Reynolds would put Israel in grave jeopardy and that it might even bring about the apocalypse we so desperately were trying to avoid. I thought I was doing Christ’s work.

‘I now see that those with whom I associated had their own agendas. Their only goal was to amass wealth and to amass power. That their efforts could cost billions of lives was simply not their concern. I feel so foolish now. How was it that I didn’t see it?

‘There is no future for me now. The end is inevitable - I will hang or be hanged. Given the choice, I’d rather do it my way and on my terms. This is therefore my parting message. However, there is one thing I can do for you. Over the years I accumulated a lot of data on those with whom I associated. I kept this data in secret on the off chance I might need to use it someday. It’s of no use to me now, but it could be of profound use to you. Here you will find names, dates, expenses and relationships.

‘You will find everything you need to prosecute those responsible for the events of the last week. Among these are nearly all of those you cited as suspects in your presentation, but far more are not. Hopefully these data will go a long way toward righting my many wrongs. Use this information wisely.’

“There’s a shitload of stuff here,” Trevor continued. “These files are heavily encrypted . . . not that that’ll slow me down . . . and they’re very well organized. My God, there are hundreds of names. It could take us years to get through all of it.”

“Is there anything there that could help us in bringing those most responsible for the assassinations to justice?” I asked.

Trevor hesitated a minute as he seemed to sift through the information on his data terminal. Finally, he said, “Oh yeah. There’s some incredibly incriminating stuff here. Not any of it related directly to the assassinations that I can see as of yet, but enough that’s sufficiently incriminating to make arrests. Enough to put them away for a lifetime. There’s probably enough to eventually tie them to the assassinations as well but . . .”

“But which we don’t need in order to make arrests,” I stated, completing Trevor’s thoughts. “I was just about to raise the topic of how we might see justice served, but was afraid there just wouldn’t be time before the news conference tonight.”

“There wouldn’t have been,” Trevor commented.

“And those responsible for my husband’s death . . .”

“Would have disappeared, and gotten away with it,” Bruce answered.

“I can side-run these data through the NSA computers,” Trevor suggested, “verify them and get the pertinent info out to our operatives throughout the world.”

“Those that are in North America, Europe and Japan can be picked up this afternoon,” Debbie concluded.

“And those outside our direct jurisdictions can be pursued by our operatives and appropriate actions taken,” I added. “Get on it, Trev.”

“With pleasure, Jer,” Trevor responded.