Lethal Trajectories - Michael Conley [129]
A million things raced through his mind as he sat down on the big chair behind his desk. Two envelopes awaited him there. The first was a sealed envelope with a White House logo, and the second was a large manila envelope marked “Top Secret—For the President’s Eyes Only.” He opened the small envelope and immediately recognized his predecessor’s handwriting.
The thoughts this inspired of his friend and mentor were interrupted by a tapping on the door. It was his secretary, Marilyn Coyle, and she entered the room with a big, infectious smile.
“Good morning, Mr. President, and welcome to your new office. I can’t begin to tell you how proud I am and how happy I am to have moved with you to the Oval Office.”
“Thanks, Marilyn, but it was a no-brainer. I couldn’t live without you when I was vice president, and that goes double now! Did your move go well? Did Ginnie Mogenson have a chance to familiarize you with the routines over here?”
“She did, Mr. President. Both Ginnie and George Gleason were so helpful in showing me the ropes. Hopefully, I’ll get the hang of things around here in short order. Can I get you anything, Mr. President?”
“I think I’m okay, Marilyn. What does my day look like?”
“Your first meeting will be at eight o’clock with Peter Canton, and it’s scheduled for one hour. The next one is at nine with CIA Director Mullen, and then Treasury Secretary McMasters at nine thirty. Your Situation Room meeting starts at ten, and I’ve left the rest of the day open for it. Oh, yes, don’t forget the family lunch we’ve squeezed in for twelve thirty. Off the record, I think Melissa and Amy have a little surprise for their daddy, but they swore me to secrecy.”
“Thanks, Marilyn; it’ll be our little secret. By the way, good luck to you in your new job. We’re in the big leagues now, kiddo.”
As the door closed behind her, Clayton opened the second envelope on his desk. It contained the Morning Book supplied by the Situation Room. The intelligence report was a grim reminder that he was no longer just a participant in the problem-solving process. He now owned the world problems, lock, stock, and barrel; there was no escape. Burkmeister’s note suddenly took on an entirely new level of clarity. He was telling me to stick to the things that matter most, and the other issues would fall into place. Good advice, he thought.
Just then, Marilyn Coyle tapped on the door and said “Peter Canton is here to see you, Mr. President.”
“Peter, c’mon in and join me for a cup of coffee,” he said with enthusiasm.
“Thank you, Mr. President, and may I say I like the looks of your new office?”
“Thanks, Peter. You and I have been together for a lot of years, and I hope you get used to this office because I know we’ll both be spending a lot of time here in the future. Now, tell me about the gas rationing and climate-change plan you and your people are working on.”
Peter pulled his chair closer to the president’s desk and wasted no time in launching into his summary.
“We’ve developed what I think is a workable plan that can be phased in without completely disrupting the economy. We can’t finalize it until we know what Jack is able to work out with the Chinese, but I can give you the highlights. I’ll start with the gas rationing part. The plan is to spread the sacrifices across all sectors of the economy. No one is exempt.”
Clayton started to ask a question, but then stopped. “Go ahead, Peter, please continue.”
“The American economy is struggling to deal with its consumption of seventeen million barrels of oil per day with sky-high oil prices. In a perfect world, our economy would use even more than the twenty-one million barrels we consumed daily in 2007, but that’s a thing of the past. The Saudis and their allies have taken 20–25 percent of the world’s oil off the market, and economic engines everywhere are slowing down. Roughly speaking, we’re looking at a supply drop from seventeen to thirteen million barrels a day. That’s a lot of oil to suddenly remove from an already oil-starved nation, and it’s the new