Lethal Trajectories - Michael Conley [54]
As he poured his fourth cup of coffee, the caffeine started to kick in and his mind began to clear. He reached for a scratch pad and began to write down the key concerns on his mind. Somehow, this form of mental exercise always helped him see the bigger picture.
Item one was the disturbing day he had at the IEE. The climate-change data was filling in an increasingly ugly picture, and he wondered, Could there be something wrong with the software?
Item two was the call from Wang Peng. It was not unusual to hear from Wang, but given his sensitive position and the international uproar over the Chunxiao Incident, it was strange that he’d go out of his way to visit. Peng had been noncommittal when he had called him back to confirm the dinner, but something was not right.
Item three, Clayton’s call, bothered him most. What had Clayton anxious enough to bring him in so early in the morning? Hundreds of possibilities crossed his mind, most of them not good. Were any of these events connected? He didn’t know, but at least he would find out about the third issue in short order.
He bolted out of his chair when he saw the black, unmarked limo pull up to his house. The ride to the vice president’s residence at Number One Observatory Circle was short, but he chafed at every red stoplight. The detour around Dumbarton Oaks Park (due to road construction and poor drainage from the constant rain) made him bounce with irritation. But by 7:20 the limo was through the security gate, and he stepped briskly up to the refurbished 1893 mansion.
Clayton greeted him at the door. “Jack, thanks so much for coming on short notice.”
“No problem,” said Jack, “I’m glad to be here. Is everything okay with Maggie and the kids?”
“They’re just fine. They’re still out at Maggie’s mother’s place, but they’ll be returning later this evening. I’ve been batching it, but that’s good because I’m spending most of my time at the office anyway. It’s been a real zoo.”
The two brothers walked down the hallway to Clayton’s private office, where Jack was pleased to see a blazing fire and a continental breakfast laid out on one of the tables. Clayton was clearly prepared for more than just a brotherly chat.
“I don’t mind telling you, Clayton, that I didn’t like the sound of your voice last night. Whatever is bothering you, it’s bothering me too, even though I don’t know what it is.” He reached over for some orange juice and toast.
“Sorry for the cryptic call, but I was blown away by something I need to talk to you about, and I think you’ll understand once I tell you. This is super-confidential stuff.”
“Geez, Clayton, you’re really starting to spook me. What’s going on?”
“Last night, I met with President Burkmeister in his private quarters. He’s a dying man, Jack. He has terminal cancer and no more than three months or so to live.”
Clayton sipped his coffee, giving Jack a much-needed moment to process the news before continuing.
“He has a highly aggressive form of pancreatic cancer, and he plans to resign the presidency on or before November first, depending on his health.
“I don’t know what to say,” Jack responded, shaking his head. “What’s going to happen now?”
“He plans to make a prime-time statement to the nation from the Oval Office on Monday night,” Clayton said. Jack nodded absently, struggling to fathom what this would mean to Clayton and his family.
“I’ll be meeting with President Burkmeister tomorrow morning to plan out as much as we can on short notice, and I’ll know more about the logistics then. As you can imagine, there are millions of things to work out, and we don’t have the luxury of a long timeframe.”
We? Jack decided to let that go for now.
“The president suggested I do two things fairly quickly. The first is to select my White House chief of staff—someone to work hand-in-glove with me—and the second is to consider who I want to replace me as vice president. I’ve decided on the former, and I have a short list of people I would consider for the vice presidency.” Clayton looked at him, and Jack