Commander in Chief Page 5

  “Not really,” Jameson said.

  “Really? I thought you’d be excited to make changes.”

  Jameson shrugged. “Candace and I have looked at the important public spaces. She’s got an eye for things that she doesn’t think she has.”

  “And, what about your space?”

  Jameson sighed. “Well, I think we might keep the rec room idea. Modify it a bit for the kids.”

  “Kids?”

  “Oh, no.” Jameson laughed. “No new additions from me. But we have all the grandkids and Coop. I swear they get bigger by the minute. Cooper will be seven this year. Spencer will be six. I don’t know how that happened.”

  “It goes by faster with each day,” Marion agreed. “That’s why I wanted to have a space up here for the family to unwind. Our four grandkids are growing like weeds too. Sometimes, when our kids are here, they seem to have gone in the other direction.”

  Jameson chuckled. She understood Marion’s meaning intimately. She thought it was interesting to watch Candace’s kids. They were all fantastic parents by Jameson’s account. She continued to marvel at the way they became children in Candace’s presence. Becoming part of Candace’s family had given Jameson a new perspective on life and love. She’d seen the same transformation happen to Candace when Pearl was close. And, she now recognized that she too sought out her mother for comfort and encouragement as she did when she was a child. A person grew taller, gained experience, and learned how to navigate the world as an adult; no one ever ceased to need the love and acceptance of the person or people who had raised them. Jameson counted herself lucky. She had amazing parents. She considered herself blessed to be Candace’s wife. Candace loved her children more than anything in the world, and that had allowed Jameson to venture into a world she’d never dreamed she’d have a chance to experience. Jameson cherished being Cooper’s mother. She’d fallen in love with each of Candace’s children, and when all was said and done, they had become hers too.

  “I know what you mean,” Jameson said.

  “I’ll tell you the truth,” Marion began. She opened the door to the rec room on the third floor. “The kids are what has kept us sane these last eight years.”

  Jameson was curious.

  “Living here, you gain a new appreciation for the chaos of family. I’m not sure how to explain it.”

  Jameson smiled at the First Lady. Being in the Governor’s Mansion gave Jameson a preview of what life for the next few years would entail. It might be on a vastly smaller scale, but there were similarities. Leading the State of New York was no menial task. Candace had been on-call twenty-four hours a day. She’d been navigating political minefields, the press, consoling families after tragedies made by nature and by man for more than two years. There were times each of Candace’s kids tested her patience. The same held true for Candace. There were moments when she and Candace challenged each other. At the end of every day, Jameson remained grateful for those momentary upheavals. It kept her grounded and it reminded her of what mattered most. “You don’t need to explain it,” she told Marion. “Not at all.”

  ***

  “I have this strange feeling that today’s lunch is about more than a photo-op,” Candace offered.

  President Wallace nodded. “What have you surmised from the security briefings?”

  “How long do we have?”

  “Touché.”

  “It might help if you pointed me in the direction you want me to travel.”

  “Rusnac.”

  “Is there something new that I am unaware of?”

  “What if I told you that Rusnac had met with Ansel?”

  “Phillipe Ansel?” Candace asked.

  “That would be the one—yes.”

  Candace sighed. “What would Ansel want from Rusnac?”

  The president grinned. That’s the right question. He was relieved that Candace was stepping into the Oval Office. He’d learned throughout his time in this building that asking the right questions was half the battle in solving issues. “That’s the billion-dollar question,” he replied.

  Phillipe Ansel was a part of the Nationalist Front in France. The party was still reeling from its setback in recent elections. Ansel was thought to be the new leader of the party. He maintained an anti-immigration stance, was widely considered racist and homophobic, and made clear his commitment to setting a new course for France; a course that would turn back the clock on globalism and civil rights.

  “It’s no secret that Rusnac wanted Wolfe to be sitting here,” Candace said.

  “No,” Wallace agreed. “But we both know that someone is pulling his strings. He’s not a general. He’s a foot soldier.”

  “Any ideas?” Candace inquired.

  “Too many. That’s the problem. There’s a shift, Candy. It’s more than backlash.”

  Candace considered the president’s assessment. She understood that with progress came backlash. No matter how arduous the task was at securing equal rights, no matter how many decades fights were waged, setbacks endured, and small victories won; it always seemed that when a major battle ended it had occurred overnight. It unsettled people.

  Globalism carried enormous opportunity for every nation. It also added to the complexity of governing. Shifting from national economies to worldwide enterprise had resulted in economic hardship for many workers in every country. Some nations had become more adept at handling the fallout, at creating new avenues for development and employment. A million factors impacted outcomes. Countries like the United States were faced with layers of intricacies—population, ethnic, racial, and religious diversity, and geological differences all conspired to create regional culture. Some regions of the country had prospered from globalism and technological advancement. Others had grown stagnant. Economic hardship fueled bias of any and every kind.

  Candace had experienced the wave of both liberalism and conservatism during her campaign. Change produced passionate responses in people. She’d listened to many of her supporters’ pleas for stronger and more affordable healthcare and education, often comparing the success of Scandinavian countries and much of Western Europe in securing national healthcare and education to America’s perceived failings. European nations appeared to be more accepting of diversity and able to provide for their citizens. To some degree, that was true. Candace always listened. She agreed with the goal. She also understood the enormity of the task. America was vast in space, diverse in ways most people did not take the time to examine, and had an enormous population to provide for. The grass was always greener on the other side of an ocean. That’s what she’d come to understand. Just as America was facing a tide of anti-immigration sentiment, revitalized racist rhetoric, movements to turn back the clock on women’s and LGBT rights. Most of America’s European allies were fighting to hold back the same surge.

  Candace allowed her mind to roll through a series of questions and thoughts before responding. “How much do we know about Ansel’s travels?”

  Wallace grinned. Candace was astute. “Not as much as I would like.”

  “That’s why I’m here,” she guessed.

  “Whatever I set in motion will fall to you,” the president replied.

  Candace nodded her understanding.

  “I can give you my thoughts,” he said. “My recommendation. I will put the final decision in your hands.”

  “I don’t expect you to…”

  Wallace held up his hand. “In just about five weeks, you will be sitting where I am. It will take time for any operation to take shape. We both know that. The best chance there is for success demands that you hold the reins from the get-go.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “We’ve come a long way, Candy. We’re standing on a tall ledge and we both know it. There are people who want to wall off our desire to build a bridge across it.”

  “I know. What are you thinking?”

  “I think we need strategic partnerships. I think that you are uniquely positioned to secure
those.”

  Candace understood the president’s meaning. Jane Merrow. She nodded. “There are risks,” she said.

  “There are always risks.”

  “Yes, there are. Off the books?”

  Wallace smiled. “Sometimes, that’s the only way.”

  Candace sighed inwardly. She was not above going off the grid to keep the nation secure. It was not her preference. “What makes you think it’s the only way?”

  The president moved behind his desk and pulled out a bottle of scotch.

  “That bad?” Candace joked.

  “It’s that kind of conversation,” he said.

  Candace accepted a glass and took a small sip. “I’m listening.”

  “Turning back the clock is more than a pipe dream. There’s a movement in Germany, Denmark, the UK, Belgium, even in Canada.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “Yes, but the money is flowing freely. The issue is pinning the sources of the money. The FBI has had no less than twenty open investigations for the last two years targeting campaign finance, money laundering, and human trafficking; all of them pointing to this unholy alliance that has taken shape. Not one of those investigations has determined the head of the snake. The State Department has open investigations, the ATF, the DOD, not to mention NSA. Foot soldiers—that’s all we’ve got. Beyond the obvious stakeholders in Russia, Ukraine, and China, the question remains open. Who is pulling the strings in the West?”

  “I’ll make some calls,” Candace said. “I’d like that initiative to coincide with something official.”

  Wallace grinned. Candace Reid might as well already be sitting in his seat.

  “What?” Candace asked.

  “You’re ready,” he said.

  “I hope so.”

  “Don’t question it,” he advised. “You are. I’ll put a plan to paper with State, Defense, and the attorney general.”

  “Good.”

  “Candy,” the president began.

  “Yes?”

  “This—what we are talking about; it is the single most powerful influence on everything you hope to accomplish—everything.”

  Candace nodded. Influence. Whoever held the greatest influence created the narrative. Whoever created the narrative ultimately succeeded in accomplishing their goals. “Then I suppose I need to assume the role of Persuader in Chief as well.”

  Wallace raised his glass. I think you’ve already got that one covered.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  December 20th

  “Momma!”

  Jameson snickered. Cooper was a ball of excitement. She and Candace were set to travel back to New York in a couple of days. Jameson didn’t blame Cooper. She missed home as well. She missed their family. She had to admit that she had been surprised by how well Cooper had adjusted to his new school. And, Jameson hadn’t expected to enjoy living in the DC area as much as she did. Candace was busy; late nights and early mornings were the norms. Despite hectic schedules and pressing issues that demanded Candace’s attention, it seemed to Jameson that they had found more quality time to spend together with Cooper. As much as she missed all of Candace’s kids and their grandchildren, Jameson was grateful to have an opportunity to concentrate on their marriage and Cooper.

  “Ready to see Spencer?” Jameson guessed.

  Cooper nodded excitedly. “Momma?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do we still have company tonight?”

  Jameson smiled. “In fact, we do.” She laughed when Cooper pumped his fist in the air and ran off.

  “Where is Cooper off to?” Candace asked.

  “Who knows? Probably to plan for Dylan.”

  Candace chuckled. She was looking forward to the evening. Alex and Cassidy were set to arrive sometime in the late afternoon and planned to spend the night. Jane Merrow would join them for dinner. Cooper loved Dylan Toles. Dylan was his hero. Cooper’s excitement was an added bonus to the visit.

  “I imagine you’ll be working with Cassidy late tonight,” Jameson said.

  Candace shook her head. “Actually, I was hoping you wouldn’t mind spending some time with Cass and the kids.”

  Jameson’s curiosity was piqued. She’d assumed that aside from a chance to visit with friends, Alex and Cassidy’s visit had been arranged for Candace and Cassidy to consult on the inaugural address.

  Candace sighed. “Cass and I speak daily.”

  “Yeah, I know. What’s going on?” Candace asked.

  “Nothing you need to worry about.”

  “Candace, anything that concerns you is something I need to worry about.”

  Candace smiled. “I appreciate that. I’m serious.”

  “Please tell me there isn’t some psychotic stalker targeting you.”

  I’m sure there is. There always is. “None that have been brought to my attention.”

  “That makes me feel better.”

  “Alex and Jane have experience in areas that I don’t. You know that.”

  “Did something come up in your security briefing?”

  “Something always comes up in those briefings. That doesn’t mean there’s an inevitable outcome.”

  “But there is an inevitable threat,” Jameson guessed.

  “There are all kinds of threats,” Candace replied honestly. “Most of them don’t involve the types of weapons you’re imagining.”

  “And, you think Alex and Jane might be able to shed some light?”

  “I think that I need to keep the people I trust close and in the loop when I can.”

  Jameson nodded. “I get it; let it go, JD.”

  “No. I can’t tell you something I don’t know, Jameson. And, the truth is the more I learn, the less I know.”

  “Kind of like parenting, huh?”

  Candace laughed. “You could say that.”

  “Promise me one thing—just one thing.”

  “If I can.”

  “If it is ever about a threat to you, you will tell me.”

  “I promise.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “Jameson, I promise.”

  “Good. So, I get Cass and the kids?”

  “Think you can handle it?”

  Jameson shrugged. “Just Dylan?”

  Candace grinned.

  “Oh no… Mackenzie too?” Jameson guessed.

  Candace let Jameson sweat for a minute. Mackenzie was Alex and Cassidy’s second child. She was one of the most intelligent children Candace had ever met. She was insatiably curious and not afraid to speak her mind. She adored Jameson. More accurately, she enjoyed the fact that she could successfully torture Jameson with endless questions. “Not this trip,” Candace said. “Cass is bringing Fallon.”

  “Babies I can handle,” Jameson said.

  Candace laughed and kissed Jameson on the cheek. “Yes, you can.”

  “Hey, Candace?”

  “Hum?”

  “Do you think Cass would want to play some pool?”

  “From what I understand she’s pretty good. You might want to rethink challenging her.”

  “It’s just a friendly game. We can play with the kids.”

  Candace shrugged. “Just make sure you pick Dylan for your team,” she advised.

  Jameson’s brow furrowed. How good can she be?

  ***

  Alex leaned back in her chair and sipped the bottle of beer Candace had liberated from Jameson’s stash for her. “You said you had some questions.”

  “I have more than some questions. It seems all I have lately are questions,” Candace admitted.

  “Care to elaborate?” Jane asked.

  “Phillipe Ansel,” Candace said.

  “What about him?” Alex asked.

  “That’s the question,” Candace replied.

  “He’s close to the Russian inner-circle,” Jane offered.

  “I assumed. He’s been meeting with Rusnac,” Candace explained.

  “For what purpose?” Alex asked.

  “I don’t know,”
Candace said. “From what President Wallace shared with me, tracking his movements has become somewhat problematic of late.”

  Jane looked at Alex, took a breath and turned her attention back to Candace. “You want us to put something in motion,” she surmised.

  Candace nodded.

  “At the FBI?” Alex asked.

  “No,” Candace responded. “I want you to keep your ears open at the FBI, though.”

  Alex pinched the bridge of her nose.

  “Is that a problem?” Candace asked.

  “It’s not a problem. It’d be easier with a different director at the helm.”

  Candace’s gaze narrowed with her unspoken question.

  Jane offered an explanation. “Director Lansing isn’t Alex’s biggest fan.”

  “Why is that?” Candace wanted to know.

  “Hard to say,” Alex offered. “My past?”

  “You mean your time at the CIA?” Candace asked.

  “Partly. Look, Candace, there are always agents working off the books at the bureau; trust me on that. It helps if you have someone looking out for you.”

  “You still report to AD Bower?” Candace wondered.

  “Yes.”

  “What’s your read on Lansing?” Candace asked Alex.

  “I’m not sure I have one. He’s been throwing dirt in our path,” Alex said.

  “Dirt?” Candace asked.

  “Junk cases,” Alex clarified. “Cases rookies could solve easily. Not the kind of cases agents like me or Claire are suited for.”

  Candace’s fingertip stroked her bottom lip as she considered the information. “He was President Strickland’s appointment.”

  “He was,” Jane said.

  “His tenure is up next year,” Candace said, more to herself than to the room. She contemplated the situation silently for a moment. “Who would you put there?” Candace asked Alex.

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you,” Candace replied.

  “Candace, I’m not a politician. Appointments are political,” Alex offered.