Casing the Colors© Week 5

CASING THE COLORS : THE NEW AMERICAN REPUBLIC © by Casey Pops • • • CHAPTER 9 • President Harper's evening television report to the nation was as good as the combined writing talents of Stu Wellford and Kate Gordon could make it. Sitting behind his desk in the Oval Office, the President spoke with learned conviction. That it was the conviction of speech writers didn't disturb him in the least. He was used to mouthing the sentiments of others, and this time he was particularly happy to be doing so, because he believed it would be the beginning of his ticket out of the hell that Washington had become for him. "Tonight," he said, looking directly into the TV camera, "we begin a great battle to save the United States. We will win the battle, but only if we are willing to forget our past differences and work together. We will win the battle, but only if we magnify our commitment to America a hundredfold. It is not too late. We must search our souls for the will to survive. We must search our hearts for the courage to live together peacefully. We can no longer afford the luxury of divisiveness, intolerance or weakness." As the President spoke, the White House Twitter accounts and phone lines lit up. America was listening. When he unfolded the military plan, the positive phone calls doubled. General Gordon watched with Stu and Kate from behind the cameras as the President built momentum toward the climax of the speech. "Most of us are not heroes or martyrs," he intoned, "but this battle will require both heroism and martyrdom. The very future of America is in our hands. The consequences of failure are too enormous to contemplate. Join with me in this great test of our national will to survive," he said, his voice falling to an imperative whisper. "The world's future depends on our success. Good night, my fellow Americans, and may God bless all of us and the United States of America in the solemn task ahead." The efforts of President Harper to be pliable and of Stuart Wellford to lead in the President's name brought results. In the closing weeks of 2022, America adjusted to military convoys on its highways and armed troops in its neighborhoods and business districts. A sense of community, and indeed of added safety, developed as Americans went about their daily lives. But, the feeling of security ignored the fact that the troop movements couldn't stamp out the rebels but merely sealed off most inner cities to contain the islamic fundamentalists and their American foot soldiers. Television news continued its daily reports of inner cities bursting into violent confrontation with Ranger units and Army troops along the barricades. Nothing the government did after the November 2022 riots led to a sudden underclass commitment to America, but, then, no one expected anything like that to happen. It was General Bennett and his troops who made the country less fearful. Behind the public pronouncements and media posturing, General Bennett worked quietly to mend fences with the white extremists, some of whom were brought into his personal circle and trained to fight marauding inner city blacks and anyone else who dared to oppose his efforts to re-establish the America of the Declaration of Independence. In the nation's fit of optimism, President Harper and American Agenda found the right moment to formally announce Stuart Wellford's candidacy for the presidency. American Agenda became an official part of the country's politics when the campaign committee was officially registered. The final days of 2022 were hectic. General Bennett appeared in city after city, bolstering Middle America, inspecting his troops and Rangers and leading occasional, carefully selected, raids to round up and arrest young thugs. His TV hero image lost none of its appeal for the majority of Americans and certainly not for the media. The President asked General Gordon and Admiral Harralt to postpone their retirements. They agreed, taking on long days in the Pentagon coordinating a widespread and shifting campaign in which the terrorists had become expert in hiding behind frightened inner city residents. Kate Gordon worked tirelessly, forgetting her personal dilemma in her determined crusade to elect Stu Wellford. She and Stu traveled together to rallies and stayed in hotels all over the country, but they seldom chose to be alone, wary of the media group that traveled with them. For Stu, it was simple. There was a big, a uniquely important, job to be done and if he and Kate caused it to fail through their personal relationship, neither the country nor history, nor finally he, would be able to forgive them. Stuart Wellford was beginning to believe that this moment had been planned, that he was the person set in the place where God and Country had need of him, and despite his superior intellect and his honed political instincts, he was succumbing to the disease common to all successful politicians. He came to believe his own PR. The PR that Kate Gordon and the rest of his supporters were weaving around him to make him marketable to the American public. Kate's love was no longer his only delight, but also a potential trap to deprive him of his rightful reward. If he loved her, and he did -- even in his most self-agrandizing reflections, he recognized his love for her and his need to be true to it in order to protect his own integrity -- he nevertheless became determined to sacrifice their love for the greater good. For Katharine Harrison Gordon, daughter of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs and herself descended from men who had formed the Republic and kept it afloat through other hazardous national turning points -- for Kate Gordon, who had been shuttling between her law practice in New York and her political work in Washington trying to satisfy the demands of both her private clients and the White House -- Stu's behavior was demoralizing for its predictability. Stu, she had thought, would be different. She had relied on Stu for the critical thing he brought to their cause -- his natural charm and wit, his righteous comportment in a time begging, screaming, for righteousness. But, that he would find his importance so essential, so unequaled, that he could squander their love in its name, was for her the last evidence of the void occupying all things political. Objectivity kicked in. She would do her job. She would save America. The others be damned. • • • CHAPTER 10 • In late January 2023, after spending the holidays with his troops on lines across America holding the terrorists at bay inside their inner city fortresses, Scott found time for a much needed rest with General Gordon and Kate. Kate cleared her calendar to spend the weekend with her father and Scott. Jim Gordon had prepared a late holiday feast and invited Stu and Sheila Wellford to join them. Everyone was eager to get the latest news from Scott, and as they ate, they bombarded him with questions. "Are we dug in for a long guerrilla war?" Stu asked. "When I look at the White House summaries, it sure as hell seems we're headed in that direction. No wins, no losses, only increasingly violent standoffs." "We're organized now. Efficient. Our response time is down to a matter of minutes, and sometimes seconds. But, the terrorists continue to recruit men and supply arms. We're not making much progress stopping that, mostly because the White House won't give us the okay to enter their strongholds with decisive fire power and follow-up troops. It'll take a major sweep through urban America to completely destroy rebel capabilities. Sooner or later you politicians are going to have to face up to it," he said, hoping Stu would reconsider his position as the gatekeeper who steadfastly refused to give the order to move forward into the ghettos. General Bennett paused to savor a mouthful of turkey and gravy and General Gordon stepped in as if the two were executing parade commands. "Carlos Miguel is clearly putting a private army into place in northern Mexico. He can easily finance it with his drug trade profits. He's hiring Mexican soldiers and Cubans lured by the promise of big money. Chihuahua appears to be the marshaling area for their advance into the United States. We're preparing a full report for the President." "I haven't been fully briefed on Mexico," Stu said, unhappily aware that he was at the mercy of his advisors : "Can we count on Mexico to help us clean out the area?" Damn it to hell, he thought bitterly, they treat me as the President when it suits them, but tonight it's Stu, we wanted to tell the President first. Stu, we're preparing a paper for the President. Damn, he thought, Damn you all. My family could buy and sell most of you -- but not Jim Gordon, not the wealthy, aristocratic General Gordon, and not Kate, the last of the Gordons and her father's angel. Funny, he thought, she and I are so much alike. Family. Money. Position. Maybe that's why we fit so well. No, he answered himself, we're together because of love and it's going to be blown sky high by our god-damned political ideals. "Maybe Mexico will help us," Jim responded, "but the Mexican government has been struggling to hold onto power in Chihuahua for almost a century. Add to that the Indian and immigrant problems in the southern provinces and I'm not sure what Mexico will be able to do for us. The desert west of Monterrey hasn't changed very much since the days when Texas Rangers were chasing Mexican Federales. It has no strategic targets and it's not an easy region to contain or even patrol. It would be a slam dunk to cross the border and attack American towns." "Miguel is still in the process of arming and deploying his recruits," Scott interjected. "They need to open a dependable weapons supply line into the US before they commit themselves to crossing the border in large numbers." "This was predictable," General Gordon added. "We're preparing a vigorous response. My chief of staff is briefing us on Monday morning. You and Kate ought to attend." "You bet," Stu said, jumping at the chance to be involved in the Joint Chiefs' deliberations, "and that brings me to my subject for the evening," he added. "We need to talk about Kate." "What do I have to do with Mexico?" "Not Mexico, Kate. I need you here in Washington full time. Can't you close your New York law office or let your associates run it for a year?" "Oh, sure, and sell the family jewels to make ends meet," she shot back. "Kate," her father said, "Stu has a point. You're operating at a killer pace and it's dangerous to be traveling alone so often. The woman on the cover of Time hugging General Bennett isn't exactly anonymous." Scott blew her a kiss across the table and she grinned mockingly, remembering their confrontation at the Atlanta airport the day after the violent November congressional elections. Stu took up his sales pitch, as much to have Kate near him on a daily basis as to have her talents at work full-time for their group in Washington. "You've got strategic clients in Europe and North Africa, and after the press coverage you got when the GOP national committee kicked you out, you're as well-known as any of us. What about accepting an appointment as the Assistant Secretary of State for Political Affairs? We would assign you to the White House and let you work for the President. And, despite the considerable balance in your bank account, I think the United States can still afford to offer you a salary." Kate Gordon knew a cavalry charge when she saw one. "Okay, okay," she said, trying not to sound too excited by the prospect. "Thanks for the Christmas present." After two helpings all around of General Gordon's mince pie, Kate managed to wrestle the kitchen clean-up away from him. Her father's unique virtue as a male cook was that he always cleaned up the mess he made. However, that night he agreed to have a cognac with the men instead. Sheila Wellford quickly got up to help Kate. Sheila was forty-five, but her cheek bones and legs were those of a top model. Her tall elegant frame held clothes as if they were born on her, but she displayed a stylish nonchalance that balanced with her good looks and even better humor and inventiveness to make her loved by everyone who watched her TV program. Most of those lucky enough to meet her were instant fans. Sheila had met Stu Wellford while they were both at Yale. Stu was in Law School and after Sheila graduated with honors in Afro- American Studies, she followed him to Yale Law, where she did just as well as he. But when Stu's career took off and the political and legal conflicts of interest became increasingly difficult for her, Sheila decided to retire from active practice. She began to lecture and write about women in the law and the state of American race politics. Her stature, and her husband's, in the American black community catapulted her into prominence in white America, where she became one of the darlings of liberal high society, whose parties could not be considered successful without the stylish, slightly radical presence of Sheila Wellford, the beautiful and articulate wife of the most powerful black man in America. Sheila played her cachet for all it was worth, collecting millions of dollars from her liberal followers for her charities and black universities all over America. The Hollywood chapter of liberal America had persuaded her to become the host of a weekly talk show, where she offered dialogue about current American issues. Although her shows often boiled over with hot differences of opinion about racial issues, she was recognized as a serious voice in the fight to find solutions for America's race problems. Her husband's conservatism gave her the calling card she needed to be the acceptable thorn in the paw of white America. Because she and Stu had never been able to have children, she devoted time to working for poor handicapped youngsters. For her efforts to help these children, she regularly received Woman of the Year awards from groups as far ranging politically as the American Association of Retired People and the Nation of Islam, the only one that she had declined to accept personally. While Stu and Sheila Wellford were both celebrities with their own agendas, she often pushed him to be more attentive to what she called his real constituency. Tidying up in the kitchen, Sheila told Kate she was concerned about the long hours Stu was working and asked if Kate could influence Stu. "You look tired, too," Sheila said looking closely at Kate. "You need to find a little time for yourself." "I couldn't agree more," Kate sighed, "but it would be just that, time by myself. Scott is never around any more. The military campaign demands all of his time. He might as well be five thousand miles away for all I ever see of him." "I know what you mean. Stu is working thirty hours a day. But at least he comes home to shave and change shirts." Kate poured herself and Sheila a glass of wine and they sat down at the big oak kitchen table that Kate's father had salvaged from one of their family homes and refinished. "Do you need a friendly shoulder?" Sheila asked, fully aware that Kate was not the type of woman to admit she had problems. "Not really," Kate replied, sipping the wine. "Sometimes I just get weary, and right now even Scott seems to be my client. He's not with me, but the phone still works. He needs my professional advice far more than he needs me. What to say to the media. What TV shows to appear on. How to respond to community problems." "Have you talked to your father?" Sheila asked. "He could sort things out with Scott." "No. Dad has enough to worry about. Besides," Kate laughed, "Scott needs the advice. Stu and Dad want me to help him stay out of political trouble. And, for heaven's sake, don't mention it to Stu," she added. "Why don't you and Scott get married? It would be an anchor for both of you." "I don't know, Sheila. Scott talks about it once in awhile, but we never seem to make a decision. I'm not even sure we'd do very well together on a daily basis," she said, not adding that she was certain she would never marry Scott. "It would hardly be a total immersion marriage," Sheila laughed. "Maybe one weekend a month. But, you'd have a home." "You're right, but home and Scott don't seem to go together. Much as I love him, maybe we're just not meant to be married. Sorry, I'm just tired," Kate added, trying to avoid a long discussion about her relationship with Scott, knowing it would be easy to say something to Sheila that could raise questions about her relationship with Stu. "I'll get some rest this weekend and everything will look brighter." "Well, think about it," Sheila said. "If Scott isn't the man for you, find someone who is. You can't go on forever hiding behind Scott. I know you stay with him partly as a camouflage for Stu. It's not fair to you, or to Scott. And I know you and Stu well enough to know that you'll never get married. You're both too wired politically to face the consequences." Kate was dumbfounded at Sheila's blunt remark. For more several years she had suspected that Sheila knew something about Stu and her, but they never spoke of it, and the two women had remained genuinely close friends. "Sheila," she began, not sure what words would follow. Sheila smiled. "Don't worry, honey, it's not a big deal for me. Stu and I are best friends, but we haven't been lovers for years. You're not the only one hiding behind a facade. I'm not exactly living a hermit's life in California. Stu and I have different views of what we should be trying to accomplish, so we go our separate ways for the most part." Kate poured another glass of wine for them and they went into the living room. Kate walked over to the terrace doors. The cold winter moon cast its silver light across the lawn and empty garden. Sheila's remarkable comments crowded out most other thoughts. But, Assistant Secretary of State, that was another matter. Kate was excited, turning the notion over in her mind. More time for politics. More time in Washington. But, looking at the moonlight, her thoughts wandered far away...to North Africa. A warm quiet desert evening would relax her faster than anything else and she wanted to find a break from the oppressive political agenda she was immersed in. She felt Scott put his arm around her waist. "It's tough on you, I know, baby doll, but we're making progress even if it looks pretty grim right now." She leaned her head on his chest and closed her eyes. Why, she wondered, did she feel tenderness for Scott, but not passion. Why was it Stu Wellford who satisfied her senses. It must be me, she thought wearily. Other women would love to be standing next to General Scott Bennett, the all-star soldier hero. But she knew she needed more than reflected heroics. She needed Stu and the passion they felt together. She knew she could never be content with the life Scott offered. Scott, she reminded herself, found passion in other ways. On the line with his troops. Fighting wars. Winning.