Non Sum Qualis Eram part 9
By Ecri
See Part One for Disclaimer and Spoilers.
December 18
9:30 PM
Vice President John Hoynes accepted the glass of ginger ale, nodding his thanks to the bartender. His wife, dressed in a stunning ice-blue ball gown, took his arm as they walked through the embassy ballroom.
"Mr. Vice President!"
The distinctly British voice easily cut through the polite conversation that filled the room. John Hoynes turned holding out his hand to Lord Marbury.
"It is so wonderful of you to come, Mr. Vice President, and your lovely wife" he turned to look at the glowing woman. "My, what magnificent br"
"Lord Marbury! " Hoynes interrupted. "You have a full house. It seems every ambassador in Washington is here."
"Yes, yes. We are rather pleased at the turnout."
As they talked about nothing in particular, Hoynes noticed Marbury's eyes darting about the room. Finally, he leaned towards Hoynes and said softly, "A word, when you have a moment, Mr. Vice President."
Curious, Hoynes nodded, excusing himself from his wife's side, he followed Marbury, who spoke loudly of a recent visit to Texas, and was asking Hoynes detailed questions about his home state. Explaining he had purchased an antique cavalry sword and would like the Vice President's opinion, Marbury led Hoynes to his private office. Once inside, Hoynes Secret Service detail split up, one accompanying Hoynes and Marbury and one remaining just outside the closed door.
The office was occupied when they entered by an average looking man in an average looking suit. Nondescript was the best word to describe him. He caught Marbury's eye, nodded slightly and exited by a second door.
Marbury waited until he had gone, and then gestured for Hoynes to take a seat. The Vice President did so, noticing that Marbury's drunken demeanor had vanished. His eyes, slightly glazed in the ballroom, were now clear and focused. Hoynes waited for the Ambassador to explain, his only reaction being a slightly raised eyebrow.
"Thank you for indulging me, Mr. Vice President, and allow me to say, I would not resort to such clandestine chicanery if it were neither necessary," He leaned slightly toward the Vice President as he seated himself. "Norso unofficial."
Hoynes nodded. "I understand, Lord Marbury."
"Please, it's Johnthis is, as I said, unofficial, Mr. Vice President."
"John," Hoynes corrected gesturing to himself.
Marbury smiled. "Well, John, then, off the record, I have to tell you a few things."
"By all meansoff the record."
**
Oval Office
December 19
12:23 AM
Jed Bartlet stood in the middle of the Oval Office swearing. Wearing a sweatshirt, which one could only intuit had Notre Dame emblazoned on it once long ago by the placement of a few ghostly letters, the Commander in Chief was nevertheless imposing and implacable in his outrage.
"Is that exactly what they said?" He stared at his Vice President, who still wore his tuxedo, having come to the White House directly from the Embassy party.
"I can only say that it's what Lord Marbury says that they said." John Hoynes looked around the room at the impromptu gathering. Ron Butterfield and Leo McGarry still managed to look as though it were just after noon rather than just after midnight, in suits, ties, and jackets. He himself, was of course, quite formally dressed. The presence of Admiral Fitzwallace, in full uniform, had surprised Hoynes when he'd first arrived, since he'd called from the car and hadn't thought there'd been enough time to alert the Admiral.
Pacing in front of his desk, Bartlet looked from Fitzwallace to Leo McGarry. Hoynes had the distinct impression that something was going on that no one had bothered to tell him.
Fitzwallace stepped forward. "Pardon me, Mr. Vice President, but did Lord Marbury say where his government got this information?"
Hoynes slipped his hands in his pockets and stood staring at the Admiral a moment before replying. "Actually, he was adamant that this was something he personally stumbled upon. He said he didn't want his government to be involved. He insisted it was unofficial and off the record. All he would say was that, as a friend of the United States, he could not stand by and simply assume that veiled threats made against us would not be carried out."
Fitzwallace nodded. "Did he name his source?"
"He said that the Qumari Ambassador's Chief of Staff had seemed agitated before leaving the country. He'd been recalled. The theory in the ambassadorial circles was that he disagreed on some major political decision the Qumari government had made. Marbury later learned the man had died in a car crash right after returning to his country."
Leo let out a whistle of surprise.
Jed turned to face him. "Can we believe that?" He looked again to Fitzwallace. "Is there anything for them to gain by lying about this?"
Fitzwallace considered the question. "Any disinformation is good for them, but I don't know what they would specifically gain by this."
Jed turned to Butterfield. "Ron, can we take this as a serious threat?"
Butterfield nodded. "Any time information like this comes into the White House, especially through ambassadors and the Vice President, we have to take it seriously."
"Yes, but how seriously?" Jed insisted, not letting go of the question.
Hoynes watched the foursome before him feeling like a spectator at a mixed doubles tennis match. He was sure he didn't have all of the pertinent information, so he decided to wait it out and see if they decided to bring him inside.
Finally, Jed sat down, gesturing for Hoynes to take a seat on the sofa to his right. "John, can you tell us again what he said?"
Hoynes nodded. "Would you like to get a tape recorder?"
"We have one, sir." Ron Butterfield claimed.
Hoynes looked around pointedly, but when the Secret Service agent didn't feel inclined to point it out, he turned his attention back to the President. "Lord Marbury asked me into his study to show me an antique cavalry sword he'd bought. Once inside, he told me he had information that was 'unofficial' and 'off the record'. He then told me that the Qumari Ambassador's Chief of Staff had informed him that, if he were President of the United States, he would be very concerned about safety."
"The President's safety?" Leo's concern for his friend was probably only slightly magnified by the fact that his friend was the President of the United States.
"He didn't specify. He said that in Qumar, the palace guards are trained to protect by any means necessary. Marbury said that he claimed that they trained to make death both gruesome and painful, and that they were equally at home killing face to face or faceless thousands."
"Did he say that specifically?" Butterfield asked for clarification. "Did he actually say 'at home'?"
"Yes. Is it important?"
Butterfield shrugged. "Maybe. It could have been a turn of phrase, or it could have been a way of indicating that the President wouldn't be safe at home."
"At home in this country, in the White House, or in Manchester?" Bartlet did not try to disguise his anger.
Butterfield shifted slightly. "I have no way of being certain, sir. I suggest we double security for you, your family, and for the Vice President and his family."
Bartlet glanced at Hoynes, who was merely watching him and waiting. "Okay. Whatever you need to do. Ron, I won't allow anyone else to be hurt or killed."
Butterfield had already known how his president would react to a threat like this.
Admiral Fitzwallace had more to add. "Mr. President, I suggest we bring the CIA in on this. Maybe the right operativesor Black Opscan find some concrete information."
Jed glanced at Leo, but turned back to Fitz without giving voice to his questions. "Do it. Is that all we need?" When Butterfield and Fitzwallace admitted they had all they could gather from the Vice President's information, Jed dismissed them.
Hoynes watched the men go, then turned to find Jed staring at him looking sad, mad, and worried all at the same time. "Is there anything you need to tell me, Mr. President?"
Jed shook his head. "No, John. You're going to be the next President, and if my presidency blows up in my face, I don't want it taking you out, too."
Hoynes nodded, and, as he left, he realized that the President's words weren't the least bit comforting.
**
Sam Seaborn's Apartment
Orange County
Sam threw his briefcase to the floor as he closed the door. It had been a long day. Another statement Webb had given had mercilessly come down against one of Sam's soon to be made announcements. He'd come down hard on what he called the democratic propensity for hyperbole when describing a future under GOP leadership.
In truth, Sam's next speech was dedicated to painting a picture of the things that the GOP had done wrong. If he gave it now, it would seem silly. He would have to wait, judge the political climate, and maybe give it next month if at all.
That someone in his office was behind this was obvious. Who it could be was less so. Scott and Will had tried to trace the leak, but they'd had no success.
Facing this kind of betrayal made Sam wonder why he ever had gotten into politics.
He sat heavily on the sofa and clicked on the TV. Local stations were still predicting he'd lose, and his numbers were definitely dropping. He switched to CNN, and pulled out a file he'd been working on earlier for the Inauguration. Toby's block was finally broken, but time was running short, and he knew that, should the White House Director of Communications find a perfectly workable draft of the very pages he needed staring him in the face, he was hardly in a position to toss them in the shredder.
He'd been working maybe half an hour when something on the television caught his attention. This couldn't be good.
**
Campaign Speech
Orange County, CA
"You've all heard the campaign promises before." Sam reminded his audience. "By now, you know what each candidate is promising, probably better than we do!" A small wave of light laughter moved through the crowd. "All I can tell you is that my goal is to be your voice. I want to make a difference. Together, we can do that. Thank you." Sam stepped back, waving at the crowd, and moving off the stage.
Will caught up to him as he moved through the crowd. "We gotta get back to HQ."
Sam felt his mouth quirk upwards wanting to grin. "HQ? Who are you, Maxwell Smart?"
"Seriously, I have some things to go over with you at headquarters."
"Headquarters?"
Elsie appeared on his left..
Sam turned to her. "Did you need something, Agent 99?"
Elsie looked at Will, but when he just shrugged, she decided to ignore them both. "Angela called from HQ. She said you've had a call from the White House."
"HQ? Yeah. Is KAOS threatening the free world again?"
She stared at him blankly, until Sam relented realizing there was every chance she had never seen Get Smart. Not prepared to face that kind of generation gap, he got back to business. "Who was it?"
"She didn't say."
Sam pulled out his phone and hit his speed dial and waited for an answer. "Angela? Who called?" Pause. "He did?" Pause. "No, that's okay, I'll return the call myself. Thanks, Angela." He hung up.
Hitting another button, he was soon connected to the White House. "May I speak to the Vice President, please? It's Sam Seaborn returning his call."
Elsie and Will exchanged surprised glances.
"Mr. Vice President? Sam Seaborn."
"Sam!" Hoynes hadn't expected Sam's office to track him down so quickly. "How's the campaign going?"
"Not bad, Sir. I've given some well received speeches."
"You're being modest, Sam. I heard your numbers are scaring the GOP."
Sam laughed. "I think they're a little higher than anyone expected, but I don't think the Republicans are losing sleep over it."
Hoynes disagreed, buy he didn't say so. He'd taken a more active interest in Sam's activities since that night he'd found the younger man standing in the rain outside the White House. It had been that night that Hoynes had realized that, if there were an honest politician in Washington, it was Sam Seaborn. "I wanted to talk to you about a trip I'm taking out to your neck of the woods."
Sam sat up straighter, surprised. "You're coming out here, Sir?"
"Yes, and I wanted to coordinate my schedule with yours. When's your next public appearance after Christmas?"
"The 26th. We're having a dinner with the Save Our Beaches Organization."
"Okay. I think I can attend, if there's room for me."
Sam smiled and gave Will and Elsie a thumb's up so they'd stop looking at him with such apprehension on their faces. "I think we can arrange that, Mr. Vice President."
"Good, Sam. We're all proud of you, you know. We're looking for a win."
"Yes, sir. I'll do my best not to disappoint."
"I'm sure you will. I'll have my secretary talk to yours, and you might get a call from my Secret Service Detail."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
"Samgood job," Hoynes added just before he hung up.
Sam looked at his Campaign manager. "The SOBO dinner just got an extra guest."
Will smiled, incredulous. Things were going well.
**
Seaborn for Congress Campaign Office
Sam glanced out the window and was slightly startled at the sight of the vivid blue sky, the palm trees waving so slightly in the breeze and the sight of people walking around without coats. For a moment, he'd been so engrossed in his work that he'd forgotten which coast he was on. He vehemently wished the campaign were over. He missed Washington more than he should have, and he longed for a more permanent, less transient existence. He'd loved campaigning with then Governor Bartlet, but now wondered if that wasn't some strange wanderlust. He wasn't having nearly the same good time on this campaign.
He glanced at the schedule of events Scott had lined up, and struggled not to groan. The public appearances wouldn't do much for him. He felt like he was running for student body president and was campaigning at the wrong high school. Frustrated, he balled up the sheet of paper and threw it on his desk.
He stood, picked up the wad of paper and walked to his office door, and stopped the first volunteer he saw. "Karly, have you seen Scott?"
Karly shook her head. "Sorry. I don't know where he is."
"Okay. No problem." He left his office heading for Scott's, but the man wasn't at his desk. Checking the next office he saw Will handing a stack of files to Jesse. "Hey, Jesse," He greeted her cordially, pleased people were finally comfortable enough around him to treat him as a real person.
"Hi, Sam." She moved to allow him access to Will's desk then slipped out of the office leaving the two alone.
"Will, have you seen Scott?"
"He should be back soon. He was meeting with some reporters to set up the coverage for the Vice President's visit."
Sam nodded. "Have you seen his updated schedule for after Vice President Hoynes leaves?"
Will narrowed his gaze, brow creasing. "No. He should have copied me on that."
Sam tossed his crumpled copy to his campaign director.
Will caught it and glanced up at Sam. "I guess I don't have to ask how you feel about it."
"Will, are we serious about this campaign?"
"Of course we are."
"So I'm not a sacrificial lamb? We want me to have this seat?"
"Of course we do."
"If we mean business, we have to act like it. I shouldn't be making these appearances. I have to be aggressive if we're going to bring the numbers up."
"What do you suggest?"
"What's the number one issue in the country?"
"That depends on who you ask."
"My big issues, then?" Sam waited what he thought was a reasonable amount of time for the Will to answer, and when he didn't, Sam had a sobering thought. "Will, do you even know my issues?"
The question seemed to jumpstart Will's brain, and he began to ramble. "Education, privacy, the environment"
Sam waved at him to stop. "Can't I campaign on those things?"
"Well, how are we going to make much of an issue of privacy?"
"Privacy is an issue all on it's own, Will. That's why people have passwords on their computers. That's why people put fences around their property, and why a sad, strange bunch grow their hedges to be 12 feet tall. We haven't made much of any issue. Surely we can put our heads together on this."
"Sam, I don't even know how I let you talk me into staying here. I told you I'm burned out."
"You did. But it was your sister who talked you into staying."
"Oh. Okay, then."
Sam stared long and hard at the man who had gotten him into this mess. Will squirmed at the intensity of the other man's gaze.
"Will, we need to address issues or I don't know what I'm doing here. Look, we have a lot of work to do. My numbers aren't going anywhere and I don't think they'll get very far with these appearances you and Scott have lined up."
"How so?"
"I need to do something to bring this around to issues rather than character."
"The character thing helped! It's only because of what CJ said about Rosslyn that your numbers rebounded to begin with."
"I won't campaign on what happened at Rosslyn."
"Why not?" When Sam glared at him, he held up his hands as if in surrender. "Look, we've got the Vice President coming. Why don't we hold off on any major changes until then."
Sam hated to put this off, but he knew he was already committed to these appearances. It wouldn't do his campaign any good to cancel now.
With a palpable reluctance, Sam nodded. "Okay. We'll revisit this after the New Year."
Sam headed back to his office, wondering who in his staff was really behind him.
**
December 23
The White House
Press Room
5:45 PM
"and that's all I have right now."
CJ wrapped up the briefing with her usual aplomb, though some reporters still seemed to want her attention. She ignored them all. As she stepped through the doorway, Carol came running up to her.
"CJ" Together, the two women moved down the festively festooned hallway.
"Carol! Remind me to bring the fruitcake and egg nog to the next briefing."
"CJ, Ron Butterfield is in your office. He wants to talk to you." Carol looked almost apologetic.
CJ stopped walking, her face a shade paler than it had been before. "Of coof course he wants to talk to me. Why else would he be in my office?" She resumed walking, bringing her emotions under control with each step. It had to be about the trial. Something must have happened. They postponed it. They moved it up. Without conscious thought, she slowed her steps as she neared her office. Giving herself a mental shake, she quickened her pace and walked in as though she didn't have a care in the world.
"Ron, what can I do for you?"
"CJ." Ron stepped aside, letting her cross the room to her desk. She stood behind it, and faced him. He knew she'd want to get this over with as soon as possible. "About two hours ago" He paused remembering suddenly that Simon had told him that CJ didn't want to use her stalker's name. He sighed, feeling ridiculous skimming around a fact, but feeling it was the least he could do for her. "The stalker killed himself in his cell."
"I'm sorry, what?"
"He's dead, CJ. He killed himself. There will be no trial."
"Isee." She didn't really understand. Her stalker had"He killed himself. How did hewouldn't he be kept from" She held up a hand to forestall the answers she'd just requested. "No, never mind. I don't need to know that." Relief flooded her system making her knees suddenly weak. Stubbornly, she clenched them together, and rested a hand on the desktop. "It's over."
Ron smiled for the first time since walking into the room. "Yes, it is."
As he walked out the door, CJ sat down feeling a numb sort of relief.
**
December 23
The White House
One thought raced through Leo McGarry's mind as he searched the West Wing. What a Christmas this was turning into. Between his and the President's guilt trips spilling onto Josh, which spilled onto Donna, CJ's news about her stalker being dead, Toby walking around yellingokay, maybe that wasn't so different than usual. He'd be relieved when he and the President finally sat down to Christmas dinner together in Manchester.
Leo finally found who he was looking for. Donna was just arriving at her desk, a stack of file folders in her arms that threatened to snap the legs clear off the thing. He moved next to her and helped her balance the pile in the middle of the desk. "Donna, we got it covered. You can go."
Donna looked up at him, confusion all over her face. "Josh said"
"I know what Josh said. I spoke to the President, and we're putting infant mortality and churches off until after the first. You had plans, didn't you?"
She smiled a shy smile. "Well, yes, but I don't know if I can get there before tomorrow. It's late."
"It's the Inn, right?" Leo waited for her nod. "I think we can still get you there. Let me make some phone calls. Get your stuff together."
She nodded again, but Leo had already turned towards his office. She checked her bags where they were still stashed by her desk. It looked like she was going after all. She picked up her phone and called Jack. By the time she explained it all, Leo was back. She put Jack on hold.
"I got you hooked up with a news helicopter that's landing about two miles away. Can you get a ride from there?"
"Sure, yeah! Thank you so much, Leo!"
He handed her a slip of paper. "This is were you gotta be and where you're gonna land. Go. Have a good Christmas."
"You, too. Merry Christmas!"
He laughed at her exuberance and walked away. She was a good girl, Donnatella Moss. Mrs. Landingham had told him that once, so he had started to pay attention. The old broad was right. Donna had a future. She was smart, pretty, and more loyal than almost anyone Leo had ever met, with the possible exception of Sam Seaborn. It wouldn't surprise him if she ended up with his job one day.
**
Donna sat in the cab, racing to the rendezvous that would bring her that much closer to what was becoming her first real relationship in too many years. She considered it a sad reflection of what her personal life had become when just a few dates constituted a relationship.
Jack Reese was funny and charming. He had convictions. He had ideals. He was a fair-minded man who was willing to trust people when they told him strange stories about swapping votes. She was thrilled to be getting a few days with him. Who are you trying to convince, Donnatella Moss? She asked herself the question not for the first time. Jack was a sweet guy, but her thoughts lately were on someone elsesomeone a lot closer to The White House.
She forced the thoughts from her mind. She was going to enjoy this Christmas. It was going to be perfect–boyfriend by her side in a quiet, beautiful inn, and her job miles away. Her thoughts, on the other hand, were obviously going wherever they pleased.
**
To Be Continued
