The Making of the President, 2006
It is difficult to know exactly when the 2006 campaign season started, but the events that set it in to motion began in 1991, when President Sullivan ordered the first strikes against the dictatorial nation of Qumar.
Qumar has been a thorn in the side of the United States since the middle of the Cold War, when US aid money, intended to feed Qumari widows, was diverted to finance the government sponsored poppy farmers, heroin sellers, and sometime-warlords of western Qumar. When the fraud was discovered, all US aid was promptly cut off, and Qumar proclaimed itself a Communist nation. Nothing changed for the Qumari people, however, and no ties were formed with Moscow.
When Qumar sensed the tide turning against the Soviet Union in the early 1980s it proclaimed itself a capitalist nation once more. Never did the Qumari regime change. The wealth of oil contained beneath Qumar prompted OPEC and the capitalist nations of the world to welcome Qumar back with open arms, however.
The Qumari foreign minister complained to the United States military that the small nation felt defenseless from retribution from the Soviet Union. The United States, although still mistrustful of sending Qumar aid money, jumped at the chance to set up a military base in the unstable Middle East.
In July of 1990, a long awaited revolution began in the streets of Qumar. By September the Royal Family had been ousted, and by December a military dictatorship had been set up. In February the People's Fascist Army of Qumar decided that the United States could no longer be a presence in Qumar.
So they attacked the US military base in the Sed Ranos Mountains.
The United States' retribution was swift, but by no means conclusive. Although the American people's outrage was thorough, errors in intelligence gathering and lack of international support limited the offensive to minor air strikes.
President Sullivan, who, by the end of the Qumari air strike offensive, titled "Operation Mantled Eagle" (better known as Operation Mangled Eagle to pundits throughout the nation), was a lame duck president, having lost his reelection bid to President Jed Bartlet, ordered additional money funneled into the international intelligence arm of the CIA. Eventually, the true power of the CIA was made secret to everyone outside the military, including the new president, also on President Sullivan's orders. This new branch was to be given complete autonomy and to act in whatever they believed to be the best interest of the United States. Naturally, a great number of atrocities were committed, as, so the adage goes, absolute power corrupts absolutely.
All this remains unproven, of course. No indictments have been handed out; no one has been forced to resign.
But the truth was discovered, as it always is, and those involved were held to pay for their crimes.
Which left a division of the CIA with orders to maintain plausible deniability and no mandate except secrecy.
The pink rubber ball.
Sam hated the pink rubber ball. Not because it was annoying; although it didn't take him long to become irritated with the thump-thump-slap when Toby was using it, but because of what it symbolized. The appearance of the pink rubber ball was always an ill omen for Sam. The only time it had been present for more than two days running was when President Bartlet announced his MS to his staff. It had been present for just under two days when Sam gave the tape to his former best friend, and he had almost tripped over it the day he had to speak to Leo's daughter's class.
The pink rubber ball.
Toby was slapping it against the window of Sam's office once again. Sam had been not working on the speech to welcome the Prime Minister of Australia for over an hour, trying to imagine what upcoming crisis could merit the presence of the pink rubber ball when he decided to give up and go next door.
"What's up, Toby?"
Toby didn't look up from the sheaf of papers in his lap. "Sixteen million dollars."
"That's a pretty hefty fine for information, even from you."
Toby was, as per usual, not in the mood for Sam to be cute. "There's sixteen million dollars budgeted for polio research in the year 2003."
"What's the problem with that?"
"I'm looking at the CIA budget."
"Why does the CIA need to be doing polio research?"
"Good question. Especially considering that we just cut millions dollars from the CIA's budget, and that they tell us they don't have enough money to go around for the things they're supposed to be doing."
Sam thought for a moment. "Do you need those numbers for anything?"
"No, I just got this file for the fun of it, to do research I don't need."
"Right." Sam was, as per usual, not in the mood for Toby to be snarky. "Can I have them when you're done with them?"
"Sure."
Sam made a list. Polio research, $16 million. Publications regarding the hiring practices for PhDs, $177,000. Research on the effects of sarin gas on the California Banana Slug, $3.37 million. Sam felt somewhat like he was trapped in a MasterCard ad. The list went on for about a page, and totaled almost $175 million. All the numbers had in common was that they seemed to have little or nothing to do with the normal mission of the CIA. Sam wasn't sure why he felt the need to compile them, or what he was going to do with them once he had them. It just seemed interesting that in an era when the CIA was complaining about the amount of money cut from their budget, they should so blatantly waste so much money. It could be pork, Sam thought, some senator threatening to hold up the entire budget unless he could take a piece of the money back home, or it could be something more sinister.
What, though? Categorical embezzlement? That couldn't be possible; too many people would be demanding accountability for the money for it to be kept secret from the White House, or at least the media. Accounting errors? Again, too many people would be demanding accountability for the usage of the money.
Perhaps the money wasn't being embezzled, but it was being used for something other than what it was being used for.
"Ginger!" Sam didn't usually yell for his assistant, but it was a habit he had seen Josh and Leo adopt during their White House years and it slipped out before he could think.
Ginger entered, a puzzled expression on her face. "Since when do you yell for me?"
"Um, sorry about that. I need information on this list of things." Sam handed her the list of strange numbers.
She examined it closely. "Some of these aren't going to be easy to find out about," she told him.
"What do you mean?"
"Margaret and Donna tried to get information about their findings on carpel tunnel syndrome and were told that the results were classified."
"Did they use Josh's –"
"They used Josh's name. And Leo's. And yours."
"They used my name?"
"Mmm hmmm. Still classified."
"That's fraud!"
"And yet somehow my aching wrists don't care."
"See what you can get about the items on the list."
"Okey dokey. Anything else?"
"No, thanks, that's all."
Sam jotted some notes for the welcome speech down on a piece of paper then stood up and walked out the door. He skirted by Toby's office, expecting his superior was grouchy.
"Hey, Sam." Josh rounded a corner and caught up to his friend.
"Hey, Josh. You still doing the thing?"
"No, I'm on to bickering with Donna."
"It's a slow day today."
"Yeah. Congress is in recess, the President's in Manchester, nothing interesting's happened in three days…"
"These are all things I know. Listen, what kind of stuff can the CIA decline to give us information about?"
"The CIA was denying you information?"
"And you too. According to Ginger."
"What?"
"Apparently our assistants don't hesitate to use our names to get access to stuff."
"Yeah, I know. Turns out I can get last minute tickets to the Dave Matthews Band."
"Y'know, Margaret can forge the president's signature."
"Yeah? Donna can forge John Adams' signature."
"Really?"
"Yeah, she bought the David McCullough book and a calligraphy set at the same time."
"That could be useful information at some point."
"I can't imagine any circumstances under which that information could be considered useful."
"Do you ever notice how you bring Donna up in causal conversation all the time?"
"I do not."
"All the time, you do."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
Josh looked perturbed by that information. "That's probably something I shouldn't be doing."
"Yeah," said Sam, not quite smirking at his friend.
"Hey, when are you going to meet with the president about healthcare?"
"Not until he gets back from Manchester. We should give the man his vacation."
"Okay. Let me know if he's going to let us go forward on prescription drug benefits."
"He isn't."
"I know. But tell him we need a floor fight. Things are getting boring around here, and we just can't have that."