The Blackfire Protocol by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 62

He had been in a cabinet meeting for most of the day discussing what to do in regards to the growing tensions between India and Pakistan. The two countries had been squabbling for decades over the small province of Kashmir, and as one of the world’s leaders, Frank felt an unwanted obligation to foster peace in the disputed area. In actuality, he didn’t care if the people of those countries killed each other, but the nature of politics often involves saving face even when one is indifferent to the situation at hand. Now, he sat at his desk reviewing the results of the meeting when he heard the door gently open

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“Not now, Gladys,” he said. “I’m a bit busy.” His secretary nervously walked in, stating there were two men who wanted to talk to him. He spoke without thinking.

“They have to have an appointment just like everyone else,” he replied.

Then he heard their voices.

“It’s okay. He’ll see us.”

Lifting his head from the collection of papers on his desk, Frank saw two familiar men, still dressed in black suits and sunglasses. Seeing them, he quickly motioned Gladys from the office. “Now,” he continued. “What the fuck do you two want?”

Between the two, there was always one who maintained silence while the other did the talking. It had always been that way, probably as a means of intimidation, but now they were in the office of the President of the United States. One might think that they would display a different attitude, but the two men seemed indifferent to his newly acquired status as president, and in their response both remained seated.

“Frank,” the talkative one began. “How are you? I don’t think we’ve met. We’ll dispense with introductions. We don’t really have names, so we’ll just get to the point.”

There was a bit of hesitation when the man continued with what turned out to be a bit of underhanded sarcasm.

“Oh, congratulations on the new job.” Looking around the office, he commented further. “Nice office and I love the exterior—nice colonial look.”

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He had heard enough and again demanded to know what the two men wanted.

“Fine,” the man said. “We’ll just get to the point. We know what you want to do. You want to save the economy at the expense of the poor. We’ve been in touch with some of our other contacts in the capital building. You probably thought no one else knew, didn’t you?”

Frank had not been in office for even his first one hundred days, and there was already a leak. “You’re probably wondering how to do this without looking like an asshole,” he continued. “Well, we have an idea.”

Frank hated these people, but from the beginning he had agreed to play their game if it meant getting what he wanted. Now, he had it and felt he would soon pay the price for allowing his views to muddle his thinking when he could have said no.

Still seated behind the resolute desk, Frank played it cool, allowing himself to think calmly as the man spelled out a plan of action that he found disturbing yet tempting at the same time.

“Well,” he continued. “Considering what you’ve been reading over the years, we’re guessing that you want to—how should I say it? Eliminate the poor, right? I mean, you can’t just round them up and shove them into a train car, can you? A bit too Third Reich, isn’t it? But if you took away their welfare checks, the problem would eventually solve itself.” He had, in fact, considered this but knew that going about it was the problem. Getting Congress to pass legislation for the dissolution of welfare seemed

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impossible, and even if it could be accomplished, the country would quickly fall into civil disarray.

Frank’s mind continued going through all the possibilities and came up with nothing. Whatever he tried to do would be shot down by Congress or stopped cold by the Supreme Court. What he wanted seemed like a losing battle until the more vocal man offered a radical suggestion.

But first, there was another he felt needed to be addressed and holding up the letter from his parents began with a verbal offensive.

“What’s this bullshit?” he asked. “My parents almost disowned me over this.”

His demand did not go unheard as the man quickly answered.

“We can get to that,” the man replied. “But let’s talk about something else first.”

There was little hesitation as the man continued with one more question.

“Well,” he continued. “Considering what you’ve been reading over the years, we’re guessing that you want to—how should I say it? Eliminate the poor, right? I mean, you can’t just round them up and shove them into a train car, can you? A bit too Third Reich, isn’t it? But if you took away their welfare checks, the problem would eventually solve itself.” He had, in fact, considered this but knew that going about it was the problem. Getting Congress to pass legislation for the dissolution of welfare seemed impossible, and even if it could be accomplished, the country would quickly fall into civil disarray. “Not a very easy task, is it?” the man said.

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Frank’s mind continued going through all the possibilities and came up with nothing. Whatever he tried to do would be shot down by Congress or stopped cold by the Supreme Court. What he wanted seemed like a losing battle until the more vocal man offered a radical suggestion.

“What if you shut down the Department of Health and Human Services? No HHS, no welfare checks, and the poor are on their way out and you could do that with an executive order. Sound like a plan… Mister President? Of course, the group we represent expects to get its cut. You remember them, right? You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for them.” Frank had been considering this even before being sworn into office but this was not part of the plan. If he shut down HHS, the poor would starve. At the same time, crime would certainly go up as people scrambled for whatever they could find. It was certain that street drug use and sales would skyrocket with the rate of homelessness going up as well, as people were evicted for lack of money. But the money taken from the poor had to go somewhere, and the plan was to divide the trillions of dollars between himself and his cabinet members. This, however, was not the end of Frank’s plan. He would have to transfer the money off-shore and into a Caribbean account he had set up a few weeks ago. Once the money was in the account, he would resign and disappear, thereby evading prosecution. The only matter was which country to go to that didn’t have an extradition treaty with the United States. He certainly didn’t want to be dragged back and charged with embezzling the country, especially when he knew the consequences of being found guilty. This

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would require careful planning, but after some thought, he chose Venezuela as his escape hatch, knowing it was lead by a NAZI sympathizer.

Both men sat on one of the couches in front of the resolute desk and, making themselves comfortable, changed the topic to something threatening. “Well,” one of them began. “We thought you needed another message, just in case you were thinking of stiffing us. We wouldn’t want you leaving the country after shutting down the department of health and human services, right? I mean, that’s an awful lot of money.”

Seeing the look of anger on Frank’s face, the man continued.

“Now, Mr. President,” the man said. “I can call you that, right?”

Frank’s anger began to rise to the surface. One does not launch sarcasm against the leader of the free world.

“Here’s the thing,” he continued. “We thought that you might require another message—something a bit harsh. So we’ve placed several of our people around your beautiful hometown, and if you try to leave the country with all that cash, we’ll signal them. And this is the good part. We’ll burn your quaint little hometown to the ground: every house, every blade of grass, every grain of wheat—all of it, everyone. And no one will ever know who did it. Our people will be out before dawn.”

Getting up from the couch, the man walked casually to one of the bookcases, and wiping a bit of dust from one of its law books continued with something Frank found unsurprising.

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“Oh, you got a letter recently, didn’t you?” Interlacing his fingers, Frank brought his hands to his chin. He had the feeling he was about to be cornered and launched a very real threat. “Now,” he began. “You two do know that I could have you taken into custody, right? I could make you two idiots disappear. Wouldn’t that be a shame?” Turning around, the man at the bookcase looked at Frank with a puzzled expression.

“Yes, Frank,” he said. “That would be a shame. But if we don’t report back, your hometown burns anyway. So, you’re not in a very good position to be demanding.”

Walking back to the couch, he sat and made himself comfortable, then disclosed the story behind the letter.

“Oh, the letter,” he said. “It seems that everyone in your hometown saw a news broadcast about how you’re letting heroin into the country. You checked the media, didn’t you, and you didn’t find a thing, did you?”

With his elbows still on the desk, Frank listened intently.

“I’ll bet you want to know how we did it, don’t you, Frank? Well, we cut all communication between your lovely little hometown and the outside world— TV, internet, all of it. At the same time, we set up our own broadcast studio. You’re probably wondering what we broadcast, right? Well, we told the entire town that you, as president, of course, authorized the illegal smuggling of heroin from Afghanistan. We proposed the theory that the money from street sales would likely go into your pocket.

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After all, the richest country in the world has to be the most corrupt. Isn’t that true, Frank?” Now standing, Frank slipped into a quiet rage. His plan had been complicated by something he thought could never happen. At the same time, he was somewhat impressed by the organization of this group. They had been manipulating his life for decades in the interest of wealth. Now they seemed to have him trapped, and Frank was at a loss as to what to do about it. He could always abandon his plans to extort the nation and simply go on being the president. But he would also be giving up his craving for power, and his parents were old. Certainly they would not be around much longer. He decided that robbing the country of billions was worth the loss of his elderly parents. Now, he had crossed into something particularly evil. Frank would let his parents die so that he could live a life of comfort, surrounded by wealth and opulence. Eventually, he would put aside the people who mattered most to him. He would find pleasure in the women he would encounter and live like a king.