Lethal Trajectories - Michael Conley [105]
“I’d be happy to invite each of the members personally, if you are agreeable, Clayton. I’ll let them know you are acting with my full authority, and I won’t be too specific about the meeting other than to say it will be urgent and that you have my full support.”
“That would be a huge help, Mr. President. Would you feel up to attending?”
“Physically, I could, but this might be a good opportunity for you to put your own imprimatur on the group. I don’t want them looking over at me for approval—this is your show now, not mine. I’ll tell them when I call that you’re now the president of the United States, for all intents and purposes, and that anything you say or do is done with my authority and blessing. What time could you manage it?”
“Let’s make it four o’clock this afternoon, Mr. President. I’d like Peter Canton to attend as well, but I can make that call myself. If we finish the meeting at a reasonable time, would you like me to call you with the results?”
“Yes, I’d like that, Clayton. Please call me no matter what time the meeting ends. If there are any roadblocks or opposition, let me know and I’ll get on it. By the way, do you intend to bring up the matter of your vice-presidential replacement?”
“Yes, I do plan to cover that—after the meeting, I think. And I will call you with the news, Mr. President. I hope it will be good.”
Clayton left the White House deep in thought. Fifteen days to develop and present the grand strategy to the American people. He got into his limo and made three phone calls that would set the tone for the frenetic schedule of his next two weeks.
“Peter, this is Clayton, how are you doing?”
“Just fine, Mr. Vice-Presi … er, Clayton, how about you?” responded a surprised Peter Canton.
“Peter, I need to see you at my place at four this afternoon. You’ll be joined by members of the NSC SWAT team. Can’t talk about it now, but can you make it?”
“I’ll be there, and mum’s the word,” Peter said.
“Mum most definitely is the word, Peter, and I’ll see you there. By the way, you might want to drive yourself there. No point in tipping off any reporters looking for big black limos.”
His second call was to Maggie.
“Mags, I’m on my way home. I’ll tell you all about my meeting when I get home, but wanted to give you a heads-up that I’ll be having a full NSC meeting at our place at four.”
Maggie, sensing the urgency in Clayton’s voice, said only, “I’ll see you shortly, then, and I’ll make sure the staff here gets the reception hall ready. Should I arrange catering or anything?”
“We’re trying to keep this meeting quiet, so no official catering. But we’re likely to run late tonight—will you see whether we can get sandwiches or something? Thanks. Look, I’ve got to go. See you soon.”
His last call was to Jack, asking his brother to drop by about an hour before the meeting to strategize.
As his limo pulled up to the driveway of his residence, he wondered if the next occupant would feel the same special way about this place as he did. Hopefully he’d find out in the next few hours.
38
Vice President’s Residence
1 October 2017
Clayton was in his den checking recent energy reports on the computer when Jack tapped on the door, walked in, and said cheerfully, “Hi, boss, what’s up?”
“Thanks for coming early,” Clayton replied, a slight edge in his voice. “We have a lot to talk about before the SWAT team arrives.”
“I’m all ears,” Jack said as he poured a cup of coffee and then pulled out his laptop. It was going to be a long evening.
“First of all, the president liked the summary you and Wang Peng put together. He asked a lot of questions and offered a number of good suggestions I’ll share with you.” Clayton found himself jotting down new ideas as he summarized the meeting.
“We’re in an unparalleled crisis,” he continued, “and we need to make clear to the SWAT team that this isn’t business as usual. We’ll need to jolt them out of their comfort zone quickly to foster the breakthrough