CHAPTER II
“Mr President? Mr Nixon… Richard?”
The Vice President – no, President– was in a daze. His head was swirling with a million different thoughts, his eyes wide and wild with shock. John was dead…? Chuck too. And he, he was President of the United States of America. He could still faintly here the voice of the head of his detail, but in that moment he was anywhere but in his bedroom at the US Naval Observatory. He felt almost as if he was about to be sick.
“Dick? What’s going on?” His wife asked. Her voice was soft and filled with sleep as she pushed herself up off the pillows and turned to look at him.
“Pat… its… the President is dead.”
Her face went paler than their silk sheets, and her mouth gaped open with fear and shock. Nixon gripped her hand tightly, and pulled her into a tight, protective embrace.
Yet another moment of intimacy from the embattled new President. He thought in that insufferable television announcer voice.
Fuck them this is my moment, and I have to get it right. Then he remembered everything that had happened, and it really hit him.
I’m President. This is a state of national emergency. I have to be sworn in. I have to deal with this. Then one last though;
This is my time to save the nation.
“Get me Haldeman, now.” He shouted, slowly releasing Pat.
“Yes sir.”
“Is the Chief Justice here?” He asked.
“He’s on his way sir, continuity of government plans are active. The President’s chief of staff is on his way.” The agent said coolly. There was a professional steel in his voice.
Jesus, not that ruthless little bastard. Nixon thought,
I’ll have to work with him, won’t I. At least until all of this blows over. He climbed out of bed, smoothing down his pyjamas. Everything had to be done quickly now, he had to be sworn in as President, and then address the nation and… what then? There wasn’t time to write the speech, though he assumed that there would be one prepared – hoped that there would be. He’d think of something in case there wasn’t, if he had time.
“I need to get dressed. Can I have a minute?” He asked the agent. It was a question, yes, but Nixon had meant it as an order.
“Of course sir, take as long as you need.”
~-~
When he was dressed, shaved, and ready Nixon pushed the doors open, and stepped out into the corridor beyond. He was met with a crowd of pale, anxious faces, bags under eyes and messily tied ties on the men, hastily done makeup on the few women there sloppily applied. Haldeman stood at the front of the crowd, gulping periodically, but smiled when he saw Richard who wearily returned it. He sharply inhaled, smiling nervously at the assembled people – various cabinet members, EXOP figures, allies of the administration and, most importantly of all, Chief Justice Potter Stewart, looking very old, very stressed, and very, very tired.
“I suppose we had better get this done.” Richard said.
“Indeed, Mister Vice President.” Stewart said.
“Ok, I’m ready.” He said. They walked on into a larger room where a handful of journalists were assembled along with a few dozen aides. Haldeman handed Pat a Bible – nothing special, simply the Bible they had in the house, and Richard placed his hand on it, raising the other.
“Repeat after me,” Stewart began,
This is it, no going back now, “I, Richard Milhous Nixon, do solemnly swear.”
“I, Richard Milhous Nixon, do solemnly swear,"
“That I will faithfully execute,”
“That I will faithfully execute.” He echoed.
“The office of President of the United States.”
“The office of President of the United States”
And the bastards who killed John.
“And will, to the best of my ability,”
“And will, to the bets of my ability,”
And what a lot of ability it is.
“Preserve, protect, and defend,”
“Preserve, protect, and defend,”
I can’t screw it up now for all these cocksuckers to see.
“The Constitution of the United States.”
“The Constitution of the United States.
“So help me God.”
“So help me God.”
And I’m definitely going to need his help.
“Congratulations Mister President.” The Chief Justice said with a broad smile, shaking his hand.
Absolute sycophant, as are they all.
Then the jackals from the press descended on him with their incessant questioning and flashing cameras as Haldeman tried to push them aside.
Which fucking idiot cocksucking kike let these bastards into my home? He’s the first to go.
~-~
Finally freed from the vultures, Nixon was whisked away quickly into a car at the back of the house and then driven in silence to the White House. Along the way he saw a few people scattered around the dark streets, the first traces of pale light in the sky not enough to illuminate them. Even the glittering white marble of the Republic’s greatest monuments seemed dull in the darkness; the whole world was wreathed in the night’s shadow still. It was going to be a long and dark night indeed. Haldeman, and the few required functionaries were following in a separate car, but he, President Richard Nixon, was alone with his wife and a handful of Secret Service agents for now.
This is probably the last silence I’ll get to see for a long time.
Eventually the car stopped, pulling in and being met by another crowd of guards. They helped Richard and Pat from the car, and then he was rushed inside, going at a breakneck pace through the West Wing before being silently ushered into the Situation Room. It was a welcome hub of activity, with the hum of chattering voices – some angry, others said, and others still holding that tight, professional edge – almost deafening. Only Henry Kissinger, sat alone at the head of the table in a crumpled shirt, still wiping sleep form his eyes, was silent. He offered the President a weak, sad smile.
“Well here we are again, Richard.”
“Indeed we are, Henry.”
That note of disdain in his fucking voice… no doubt the fucker wants State, maybe it should go to him. Who else?
“Congratulations, I suppose, although I suspect this is not how you would have liked things to unfold.” He paused and glanced at an aide who handed him a sheath of documents, “We are likely at DEFCON 2, pending your approval, sir. We do not yet have any indication as to who is responsible for this attack, and no one has come forwards to claim it. A bomb was detonated as the President and Secretary of State boarded Airforce One earlier this morning, planted on the runway by an unknown assassin or group of assassins. No one has yet spoken to the Soviet leadership, but Premier Kirilenko is on the line to you from Moscow.”
“Do you think the Soviets did it?” Richard asked bluntly.
“No Mister President, I don’t.” Kissinger replied, “The Chinese perhaps, but it seems far too extreme even for them.”
“Indeed.” Nixon paused and ran his hand through what little hair he had left, “Who then Iran? South Africa? Other Communists? Domestics?”
“I don’t know sir. Iran seems most likely, or perhaps an unaffiliated terrorist organisation from the Islamic world.”
“Fuck.” He said. Kissinger nodded sagely.
“Premier Kirilenko?”
“Put him on the line for me.”
He was led to the so-called “Red Telephone”, Kissinger in tow. There it was, sat on the Resolute Desk –
my desk – always just within the President’s reach. He sat, feeling the mantle of history descend upon him, and picked it up. He heard a click as the line connected and then a short burst of sharp, crackling, static filled his ear.
“
Good morning, Mister President.” Came Kirilenko’s cool voice, scratchy on the phone line.
“Good morning, Premier.” Nixon growled.
“
My sincerest condolences to you and your country.” A pause, and a burst of Russian in the background that he couldn’t quite make out, “
President Anderson was a good man, it is a sorry state indeed to see him go.”
He sounds genuine.
“Thank you, Mister Kirilenko.”
“
I suppose you wish to know if we were… involved in your President’s death.”
“I do.”
“
Of course, of course. Our countries have been staring each other down look enough that your distrust is natural. Though that does not make it hurt any less.” The other man laughed, but Nixon didn’t find what he had said funny, “
No one in the hierarchy of my government ordered an attack, and no KGB elements were involved. Chinese involvement seems similarly unlikely in the opinion of Soviet intelligence services.”
“Thank you, sir.” Richard said, “The United States does not wish for this tragedy to lead to conflict between our nations, and I will make sure to keep you informed. We hope that your government will do the same to ensure our investigation into and pursuit of these killers is as swift and effective as possible.”
“
Of course, Mister Nixon.”
“Thank you.”
“
Will that be all?”
“Yes.”
Can’t even stand to be on the line a minute longer, bastard, “Thank you for your cooperation, Mister Kirilenko.”
“Of course. I will call you if we learn any more about what has happened.”
“Thank you, goodbye.”
“Goodbye.” There was a click as Kirilenko put the receiver down on the other end.
“Well.” Kissinger said, putting a second receiver down.
“Fucker was as icy as always.”
“At least it isn’t Suslov anymore.”
“True.” Richard rubbed his hands over his face, “Do you think he told me the truth?”
“Yes, at least as far as he knows. Kirilenko and his cronies are hardliners, but they aren’t Stalin. This isn’t their kind of manoeuvre. They’re willing to play the game with us to get what they want.”
“Then we’d better play better than them.”
“Indeed,” Kissinger smiled, “We better had.”
“Henry, I’m going to need men like you in my administration.”
“I serve at your pleasure Mister President.”
“And we worked well under Rockefeller, I know you only planned to stay on until Anderson replaced you, but I have no intention to do so.” He paused, calculating his next move – he could promise Kissinger state and placate him for now, but Congress probably wouldn’t allow Chuck fucking Percy to be succeeded by Kissinger, “Either in my White House or… higher in the Administration.”
Vagueness will have to do.
“Of course, President Nixon.”
~-~
“My fellow Americans,” The new President began, staring directly into the camera and at the autocue with the hastily prepared speech rolling down it, “Many of you will still lie sleeping, but tonight has seen a disaster for the American people. At five AM as President Anderson and Secretary Percy boarded Airforce One to travel to the United Kingdom, a bomb went off on the runway, killing the two men in the subsequent explosion.” He paused, wiping a genuine tear from his eye for an ingenuine effect, “This has been a national tragedy, and I can only offer my deepest sympathies to the families of the late President and Secretary of State, and the promise that I will seek both to complete their legacies and to bring justice to this fair nation.”
Haldeman was smiling at him, but Dick knew he had to ignore him, he had to keep focused on all of this.
History has offered me a second chance for greatness… only fair considering I was robbed the first time.
“We shall not rest until we have found those responsible and brought them to justice, and I as your President shall endeavour to do everything in my power to make sure that those who have tried tonight to intimidate and to cripple us discover that the indefatigable spirit of America cannot be so easily crushed. On this inauspicious day we must remain vigilant, but we cannot be cowed to the whims of those who would seek to answer reason and democracy with violence and murder, and we must hold true to the ideals of the nation. God bless you, god bless President Anderson and Secretary Percy, and god bless the United States of America. Thank you.” The camera switched off, and for a moment there was silence.
Then the room erupted with applause and locking eyes with his old advisor, Nixon allowed himself one small smile.
