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Quatrain

CHAPTER 6. TRANSITION.
January 18, 2013. The Wynn Resort and Casino. Las Vegas, Nevada.
Headquarters for the Transition Office of President-Elect Tim Woodson.
Tim Woodson, the Republican Governor from Nevada, had done the unthinkable—
he had beaten Barak Obama in the race for President. And to think that in July, Obama
had a 12-point lead.
It was now shortly before Inauguration Day. Woodson was meeting with his
advisors to continue his meetings to pick the next Cabinet. Attending the meeting was
Woodson‘s new Chief of Staff Chance Bixby, a short, slight man with a big smile,
thinning brown hair combed in a preppy cut, who wore an expensive blue Polo suit, red
and blue striped tie, and shiny brown loafers. His campaign manager, Bobbie
MacDougall, was here, but was not planning on adding much. Her job here was largely
done, and she was spending most of her days here in Las Vegas fielding calls from
lobbying firms across the country. After her big win with Woodson, she had her pick of
the litter and could not wait to start making serious money.
Due to the terrorist attack in September, Woodson felt that responding to that threat
was going to be Number One on his agenda, so appointing the Director of Homeland
Security, the Director of the FBI, the National Security Advisor, and the Director of the
CIA were going to be his first picks as the new President. Bobbie would handle press
inquiries for now until the President-Elect had decided on a Press Secretary. Also present
were some of top lieutenants from the campaign, including Bill Dominic, who handled
foreign affairs questions, T.J. Donovan, who handled domestic and economic issues, and
Roger Tippins, Woodson‘s attorney, who handled legal issues. Also present were the
Vice President-Elect, her Chief of Staff Matt Suba, and one of their advisors, Tommy
Mitchell.
They were staying at the lush Wynn Resort and Casino in Las Vegas, the only hotel
in the world to receive the Mobil Five Star Rating, the AAA Five Diamond Award, and
the Michelin Five Red Pavilion Award. The huge suite in the Tower Suites had tangerine
walls, cream sofas and chairs, over a dozen flat screen TVs, shiny marble floors, several
cream-colored Jacuzzis, gigantic glass-walled showers, and dozens of vases of fresh
flowers. The suite looked out onto Wynn‘s breathtaking and manicured golf courses,
complete with waterfalls, pine trees, and stone-rimmed lakes. Three dozen villas
bordered the golf course, each with its own outdoor pool and massage tables. Well
wishers and patrons seeking favor had flooded the President-Elect‘s suite room with gift
baskets of caviar and brie, fresh mangos, and bottles of expensive wine. Woodson had
his own Secret Service security detail now, and over a dozen agents covered the inside
and outside of the suite to make sure no one else crashed the party.
One of the expansive suites had a large granite conference table, and the interested
parties had gathered with their briefing books and notes to discuss the selection of the
next Administration. Woodson folded his tan arms onto the table, and addressed the
team.
―We have already selected the DHS, the NSA, and the head of the CIA. Now we
need to pick the Director of the FBI. Frankly, anybody we pick will be better than the
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