Parallelogram : Day Two : Chapter 20
Five Days, Eighteen Hours, Twenty-Five Minutes
"Let's get one thing perfectly clear between every man and woman in this room," Arthur Pendley stated matter-of-factly. Taking a moment, he gazed at the faces around the White House conference table, and he trusted that – despite whatever hard feelings they might be harboring toward him at this time for what he had done – he nevertheless held them captive under a spell. They couldn't act. They couldn't move. They could hardly think without the possibility – however remote – that he had set another strike in motion ... and he would be sure to remind them of that reality before this conversation was finished. "What I'm asking for is not subject to debate. What I'm asking for is not subject to recall. I won't lower myself to bartering with any member of the Cabinet, much less the top man himself." Nodding in the direction of the President's chief of staff, he added, "I'm far from the ordinary thug you presently think me to be, Ethan. We served together – briefly – in the Senate. We shared some great debates. You – of all people – should know exactly what I'm capable of."
Stoddard was unfazed. He kept his features perfectly still. "We're all listening, Arthur," he said with stoic assurance.
Pendley smiled warmly. "Very good." He placed his hands on the table.
"Tell us what it is you want?"
"First, I would like my condolences expressed to President Campbell." Noticing the sudden irritation growing amongst the other members of the Cabinet, he quickly interrupted, "At present, he's lost only a son-in-law. It's a tragic loss. Heaven forbid it became a blood relative ... or a member of his Cabinet who has not gone into hiding at the behest of the Secret Service. That would – why – that would be a personal, national, and political catastrophe."
The chief blew hot air through his nostrils. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, but his beliefs weren't at question here. The demands of a madman were.
Calmly, he agreed, "I'll express your sympathies to the President when I speak with him, Arthur. I give you my word on that."
"We needn't be uncivilized, Ethan."
"I wasn't aware that I implied otherwise."
Shifting in his chair, Pendley considered the nearest Secret Service agent. "From where you are – seated comfortably in your chair, surrounded by friends – I daresay that you see the world through rose-tinted glasses. Me? I sit here surrounded by the best and brightest of Campbell's armed thugs, for all the good they did him ... or you."
"They serve their purpose," Stoddard explained, "and you know it."
"Have them removed."
"No," the chief emphasized.
"Ethan, you will have them removed," Pendley threatened, "or this meeting is over."
Trying to control his anger, Stoddard closed his eyes. He knew he had no alternative. He had to do as he was told – for the time being – until an opportunity presented itself.
"Mr. Thomkins," he said pleasantly. "If you please, take your men outside."
"Mr. Stoddard ..."
"That was an order, Match." He hoped referring to the man by his nickname – his Secret Service codename – would soften the blow to the man's ego. He had served several Presidents, and standing down was not an order any agent took easily.
"But, sir, Mr. Pendley is a more than an ordinary threat to our way of life. If you would just permit me to ..."
"Now."
Slowly, the agents rose. Thomkins – his expression grim – shuffled slowly toward the door, following his agents. Staring back at the senator, he closed the double doors very deliberately until they latched.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me, Arthur," Stoddard warned, opening his eyes, glaring at the man. "They're not even seconds away. I give the word – I give so much as a knock on this table – and they'll be through those doors with their weapons drawn and cocked. Do you know how fragile the situation will become? Do you realize how those men live for moments like you've presented?"
"Ethan?" Pendley tilted his head to the left, bringing his hands together on the tabletop. "If I didn't know better, I'd guess you were threatening me." The man paused. "Is that what you are doing? Are you threatening me?"
"You're damn right, I am." He raised a finger and pointed it at the table. "This President has made a stand against the kind of terror tactics you're waging against us. You know that it is our government's expressed position to refuse negotiation with terrorists, and that's exactly what you've become. You. A terrorist. You're nothing more than a man with a big stick right now, and you're itching for the chance to show us how hard you can swing it. Well, I'm not about to give you that chance."
"Is that wise?"
"I don't care what it is, Arthur."
"Think of all you'd be placing at stake?"
"You didn't want to debate this issue, Arthur, but now you're sitting there trying to bait me into unnecessary word plays and senseless mind games." He locked eyes with the senator, showing him that he would only be pushed so far. "If you have something to say, then I would ask that you begin saying it. If you have demands to make, then we'd like to hear them. Otherwise, you're just wasting our time."
Chuckling to himself, Pendley nodded. "Then ... I must continue."
"Please do."
Lifting his chin like an orator, the man offered, "My demands are few and simple."
"Demands?"
"Yes," Pendley said. "I would prefer to call them requests, but I would assume that you're all thinking otherwise ... so we'll cut to the chase. Forgive me if you find them a bit predictable. Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely, as they say, but I have few and simple needs, as a result. As I said, first, I ask that you express my best regards over the loss of Trace Hightower to the President and to his family. Regardless of how you may hold me in contempt for seeing that American Prince Charming vanquished, I am still a human being and a citizen. I share our President's grief."
"I've already assured you that the President will know how you feel, Arthur."
"Thank you. Second," he continued, "I ask that an Executive Order be drafted. This document shall relinquish – effective immediately – all proprietary control over the Office of the Presidency to me." Leaning forward a bit, he clarified, "I do not wish for this to be drawn into law and voted upon, Ethan. This isn't any amendment to the Constitution." He rolled his eyes. "Yes, Campbell may remain in the Oval Office, for all I care, though he may wish to take some time away given his recent loss. I know that I would, were I to be fortunate enough to have been blessed with a son-in-law much less a son."
Stoddard nodded. "So ... this is all about power?"
"Isn't it always?" The senator smiled. "As I said, you'll have to forgive my predictability. But, as to the specifics of my demand, there is no need to alarm the democratically-minded free people of the United States. Let them have their elections every four years. Let them live blissfully ignorant to the true machinations of the inner government – the true government – my government."
He cleared his throat. "Third, I ask that, following the creation of the Executive Order, the management of the Federal Emergency Management Agency be redirected to me. I said I am a man of simple needs, and, in order to have them brought under my control, I will need to make use of the Black Military. I do not want conventional military officers assigned to FEMA, Ethan. I want only those officers already assigned to report to me." He rapped his knuckles on the table. "Don't try pulling any aces out of your sleeve. Serving on the Senate Foreign Intelligence Committee, I do have access to personnel records." He sighed heavily. "Fourth, I ask that all materials regarding the BackStep Program – both public and private – be surrendered to me."
"BackStep?" Stoddard suddenly asked. "What do you want with BackStep?"
"It isn't what I want, Ethan," Pendley explained. "It's what I want to avoid, namely the revision of the last seven days of our history. I've worked very hard not so much to see my plan set in motion as I have to see the impending results achieved. The BackStep Program will be discontinued, Ethan. You need to understand what I'm demanding, so I'm going to be perfectly clear on this. I'm not asking for you to officially close NeverNeverLand and its temporal operations. Rather, I want the place – even its personnel, if you would be so inclined – burned to ashes."
Slowly, the chief shook his head. "Larnord will never let that happen."
"Yes," the senator agreed, sounding pleased with himself. "That much, I am anticipating. Which brings me to my fifth and final demand."
Everyone around the table remained completely silent.
"Larnord is to be executed."
Stoddard felt his jaw start to drop, but he brought his astonishment under control. His face grew hot, and he hoped that he hadn't turned deep red.
"Arthur, you're a senator," he tried. "Your father served five terms in the House. You come from a wealthy family that stretches back to the Mayflower. You have the benefit of an ancestor of every generation since serving in public office. I don't have to tell you how our system of governance works behind these closed doors. You know – damn well, I might add – that there is absolutely no possible way any of us can convince the President of the United States to sanction the murder of any innocent person, much less the first visitor to our planet from another world."
"These are non-negotiable demands, Ethan."
"Arthur, be reasonable."
"Don't involve the President," the senator answered. "Be a man, Ethan. Rise to the occasion. You have some military training. Certainly, I know that you have training with a firearm. Execute the alien yourself." Smiling, Pendley took in a breath of fresh air. "I know that you feel as I do. I know that, despite Larnord's gift of the Sphere to our world, he's done nothing but meddle with the operations of the NSA. He's overridden BackStep missions that would've benefited human history, and he's authorized missions that resulted in sheer chaos. He's crippled our ability to make use of time travel to insure and protect the sovereignty of the United States. With that technology, Ethan, we are the only superpower in perhaps the universe."
"But you would have it destroyed."
"I only want NeverNeverLand destroyed," Pendley corrected. "The materials – the science, the Sphere – those I want in my possession."
"You can't fly it," Stoddard argued.
"I believe I have someone – under my employ – who can, should the need arise."
"You won't be able to maintain it."
"You'd be surprised what resources I have at my disposal, Ethan."
"Arthur," the chief tried, fumbling desperately for a counterpoint, "you know I can't do that."
"I don't see that you have any other choice." The man showed an expression of curiosity to the chief. "Come now. In my position with the Senate, I've had to order men and women to commit far worse deeds – actions with far greater consequence to the perceived benevolence of our government were the mission objectives and outcomes known by the American people. You have no idea how many times I've voted to have others killed. Yes, I have no doubt that some of them were innocent, but there are sacrifices that need to be made, Ethan, all in the name of peace."
With that, the senator rose in his chair, the legs squeaking across the marble floor. "I do understand how our system of governance works, Ethan. I know that you will need some time to inform the President. I know that you will need some additional time to convince him whatever course of action you believe appropriate is the right choice ... and I do so very much hope that you make the right choice." The man lifted his arm and glanced at his wristwatch. "However, that doesn't preclude me from expecting a show of good faith, and I've always expected the very best of those with which I've worked. I'll make one request with a time limit. If you can do that for me, then I'll grant you however long you need – within reason – to make a decision with the President on the transfer of power."
Stoddard rose, standing eye-to-eye with the senator. "What are you asking?"
"I am asking for Larnord's head ... within five hours."
At the table, Chloe Vandemark gasped.
The chief knew that the senator was hoping the demand would elicit such a response, but he wouldn't give the man the satisfaction.
"What if the President refuses to sacrifice Larnord?"
"Refusal isn't an option."
"Arthur, be reasonable."
The senator stiffened. "Then tell the President that, in five hours, I will give him another demonstration of the power of destruction I already possess." He smiled. "And you can give him my word that I will select a private target – a military target – somewhere far from public scrutiny so as to protect the integrity of his legacy from the political pundits."
That was it. There was nothing more to be said. Pendley had made his demands perfectly clear, and Stoddard was at a loss to convince the man otherwise. The fate of America – as well as the balance of world peace – would be decided ...
... within five hours.
"I'll take my leave of you," the senator announced.
With one last try, the chief warned, "Arthur, you're making a mistake."
"If it is, then it is mine to be made."
The two men gave one another a final poker face.
"Please have my car brought around front, and please have my driver returned behind the wheel. You've no doubt had the poor soul under the same type of Gestapo interrogation I've endured, but I've no doubt that he persevered under the best agents still available for the task. As you can see, I've chosen my friends wisely, Ethan." Pendley waggled a finger at the chief. "Have whatever tracking device you've had installed in my limousine removed. The car is outfitted with the technology to detect and neutralize such devices, so they'll be of no use to you. Don't bother having me followed. That will only result in my adjusting the timetable of my next demonstration."
As the man stepped toward the doors, Stoddard asked, "How will I reach you?"
"I'll reach you," Pendley explained. "If I recall, you and I have a direct connection via the War Room, eh? Don't be late, Ethan. I don't like to be kept waiting."
END of Chapter 20
Five Days, Eighteen Hours, Twenty-Five Minutes
"Let's get one thing perfectly clear between every man and woman in this room," Arthur Pendley stated matter-of-factly. Taking a moment, he gazed at the faces around the White House conference table, and he trusted that – despite whatever hard feelings they might be harboring toward him at this time for what he had done – he nevertheless held them captive under a spell. They couldn't act. They couldn't move. They could hardly think without the possibility – however remote – that he had set another strike in motion ... and he would be sure to remind them of that reality before this conversation was finished. "What I'm asking for is not subject to debate. What I'm asking for is not subject to recall. I won't lower myself to bartering with any member of the Cabinet, much less the top man himself." Nodding in the direction of the President's chief of staff, he added, "I'm far from the ordinary thug you presently think me to be, Ethan. We served together – briefly – in the Senate. We shared some great debates. You – of all people – should know exactly what I'm capable of."
Stoddard was unfazed. He kept his features perfectly still. "We're all listening, Arthur," he said with stoic assurance.
Pendley smiled warmly. "Very good." He placed his hands on the table.
"Tell us what it is you want?"
"First, I would like my condolences expressed to President Campbell." Noticing the sudden irritation growing amongst the other members of the Cabinet, he quickly interrupted, "At present, he's lost only a son-in-law. It's a tragic loss. Heaven forbid it became a blood relative ... or a member of his Cabinet who has not gone into hiding at the behest of the Secret Service. That would – why – that would be a personal, national, and political catastrophe."
The chief blew hot air through his nostrils. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, but his beliefs weren't at question here. The demands of a madman were.
Calmly, he agreed, "I'll express your sympathies to the President when I speak with him, Arthur. I give you my word on that."
"We needn't be uncivilized, Ethan."
"I wasn't aware that I implied otherwise."
Shifting in his chair, Pendley considered the nearest Secret Service agent. "From where you are – seated comfortably in your chair, surrounded by friends – I daresay that you see the world through rose-tinted glasses. Me? I sit here surrounded by the best and brightest of Campbell's armed thugs, for all the good they did him ... or you."
"They serve their purpose," Stoddard explained, "and you know it."
"Have them removed."
"No," the chief emphasized.
"Ethan, you will have them removed," Pendley threatened, "or this meeting is over."
Trying to control his anger, Stoddard closed his eyes. He knew he had no alternative. He had to do as he was told – for the time being – until an opportunity presented itself.
"Mr. Thomkins," he said pleasantly. "If you please, take your men outside."
"Mr. Stoddard ..."
"That was an order, Match." He hoped referring to the man by his nickname – his Secret Service codename – would soften the blow to the man's ego. He had served several Presidents, and standing down was not an order any agent took easily.
"But, sir, Mr. Pendley is a more than an ordinary threat to our way of life. If you would just permit me to ..."
"Now."
Slowly, the agents rose. Thomkins – his expression grim – shuffled slowly toward the door, following his agents. Staring back at the senator, he closed the double doors very deliberately until they latched.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me, Arthur," Stoddard warned, opening his eyes, glaring at the man. "They're not even seconds away. I give the word – I give so much as a knock on this table – and they'll be through those doors with their weapons drawn and cocked. Do you know how fragile the situation will become? Do you realize how those men live for moments like you've presented?"
"Ethan?" Pendley tilted his head to the left, bringing his hands together on the tabletop. "If I didn't know better, I'd guess you were threatening me." The man paused. "Is that what you are doing? Are you threatening me?"
"You're damn right, I am." He raised a finger and pointed it at the table. "This President has made a stand against the kind of terror tactics you're waging against us. You know that it is our government's expressed position to refuse negotiation with terrorists, and that's exactly what you've become. You. A terrorist. You're nothing more than a man with a big stick right now, and you're itching for the chance to show us how hard you can swing it. Well, I'm not about to give you that chance."
"Is that wise?"
"I don't care what it is, Arthur."
"Think of all you'd be placing at stake?"
"You didn't want to debate this issue, Arthur, but now you're sitting there trying to bait me into unnecessary word plays and senseless mind games." He locked eyes with the senator, showing him that he would only be pushed so far. "If you have something to say, then I would ask that you begin saying it. If you have demands to make, then we'd like to hear them. Otherwise, you're just wasting our time."
Chuckling to himself, Pendley nodded. "Then ... I must continue."
"Please do."
Lifting his chin like an orator, the man offered, "My demands are few and simple."
"Demands?"
"Yes," Pendley said. "I would prefer to call them requests, but I would assume that you're all thinking otherwise ... so we'll cut to the chase. Forgive me if you find them a bit predictable. Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely, as they say, but I have few and simple needs, as a result. As I said, first, I ask that you express my best regards over the loss of Trace Hightower to the President and to his family. Regardless of how you may hold me in contempt for seeing that American Prince Charming vanquished, I am still a human being and a citizen. I share our President's grief."
"I've already assured you that the President will know how you feel, Arthur."
"Thank you. Second," he continued, "I ask that an Executive Order be drafted. This document shall relinquish – effective immediately – all proprietary control over the Office of the Presidency to me." Leaning forward a bit, he clarified, "I do not wish for this to be drawn into law and voted upon, Ethan. This isn't any amendment to the Constitution." He rolled his eyes. "Yes, Campbell may remain in the Oval Office, for all I care, though he may wish to take some time away given his recent loss. I know that I would, were I to be fortunate enough to have been blessed with a son-in-law much less a son."
Stoddard nodded. "So ... this is all about power?"
"Isn't it always?" The senator smiled. "As I said, you'll have to forgive my predictability. But, as to the specifics of my demand, there is no need to alarm the democratically-minded free people of the United States. Let them have their elections every four years. Let them live blissfully ignorant to the true machinations of the inner government – the true government – my government."
He cleared his throat. "Third, I ask that, following the creation of the Executive Order, the management of the Federal Emergency Management Agency be redirected to me. I said I am a man of simple needs, and, in order to have them brought under my control, I will need to make use of the Black Military. I do not want conventional military officers assigned to FEMA, Ethan. I want only those officers already assigned to report to me." He rapped his knuckles on the table. "Don't try pulling any aces out of your sleeve. Serving on the Senate Foreign Intelligence Committee, I do have access to personnel records." He sighed heavily. "Fourth, I ask that all materials regarding the BackStep Program – both public and private – be surrendered to me."
"BackStep?" Stoddard suddenly asked. "What do you want with BackStep?"
"It isn't what I want, Ethan," Pendley explained. "It's what I want to avoid, namely the revision of the last seven days of our history. I've worked very hard not so much to see my plan set in motion as I have to see the impending results achieved. The BackStep Program will be discontinued, Ethan. You need to understand what I'm demanding, so I'm going to be perfectly clear on this. I'm not asking for you to officially close NeverNeverLand and its temporal operations. Rather, I want the place – even its personnel, if you would be so inclined – burned to ashes."
Slowly, the chief shook his head. "Larnord will never let that happen."
"Yes," the senator agreed, sounding pleased with himself. "That much, I am anticipating. Which brings me to my fifth and final demand."
Everyone around the table remained completely silent.
"Larnord is to be executed."
Stoddard felt his jaw start to drop, but he brought his astonishment under control. His face grew hot, and he hoped that he hadn't turned deep red.
"Arthur, you're a senator," he tried. "Your father served five terms in the House. You come from a wealthy family that stretches back to the Mayflower. You have the benefit of an ancestor of every generation since serving in public office. I don't have to tell you how our system of governance works behind these closed doors. You know – damn well, I might add – that there is absolutely no possible way any of us can convince the President of the United States to sanction the murder of any innocent person, much less the first visitor to our planet from another world."
"These are non-negotiable demands, Ethan."
"Arthur, be reasonable."
"Don't involve the President," the senator answered. "Be a man, Ethan. Rise to the occasion. You have some military training. Certainly, I know that you have training with a firearm. Execute the alien yourself." Smiling, Pendley took in a breath of fresh air. "I know that you feel as I do. I know that, despite Larnord's gift of the Sphere to our world, he's done nothing but meddle with the operations of the NSA. He's overridden BackStep missions that would've benefited human history, and he's authorized missions that resulted in sheer chaos. He's crippled our ability to make use of time travel to insure and protect the sovereignty of the United States. With that technology, Ethan, we are the only superpower in perhaps the universe."
"But you would have it destroyed."
"I only want NeverNeverLand destroyed," Pendley corrected. "The materials – the science, the Sphere – those I want in my possession."
"You can't fly it," Stoddard argued.
"I believe I have someone – under my employ – who can, should the need arise."
"You won't be able to maintain it."
"You'd be surprised what resources I have at my disposal, Ethan."
"Arthur," the chief tried, fumbling desperately for a counterpoint, "you know I can't do that."
"I don't see that you have any other choice." The man showed an expression of curiosity to the chief. "Come now. In my position with the Senate, I've had to order men and women to commit far worse deeds – actions with far greater consequence to the perceived benevolence of our government were the mission objectives and outcomes known by the American people. You have no idea how many times I've voted to have others killed. Yes, I have no doubt that some of them were innocent, but there are sacrifices that need to be made, Ethan, all in the name of peace."
With that, the senator rose in his chair, the legs squeaking across the marble floor. "I do understand how our system of governance works, Ethan. I know that you will need some time to inform the President. I know that you will need some additional time to convince him whatever course of action you believe appropriate is the right choice ... and I do so very much hope that you make the right choice." The man lifted his arm and glanced at his wristwatch. "However, that doesn't preclude me from expecting a show of good faith, and I've always expected the very best of those with which I've worked. I'll make one request with a time limit. If you can do that for me, then I'll grant you however long you need – within reason – to make a decision with the President on the transfer of power."
Stoddard rose, standing eye-to-eye with the senator. "What are you asking?"
"I am asking for Larnord's head ... within five hours."
At the table, Chloe Vandemark gasped.
The chief knew that the senator was hoping the demand would elicit such a response, but he wouldn't give the man the satisfaction.
"What if the President refuses to sacrifice Larnord?"
"Refusal isn't an option."
"Arthur, be reasonable."
The senator stiffened. "Then tell the President that, in five hours, I will give him another demonstration of the power of destruction I already possess." He smiled. "And you can give him my word that I will select a private target – a military target – somewhere far from public scrutiny so as to protect the integrity of his legacy from the political pundits."
That was it. There was nothing more to be said. Pendley had made his demands perfectly clear, and Stoddard was at a loss to convince the man otherwise. The fate of America – as well as the balance of world peace – would be decided ...
... within five hours.
"I'll take my leave of you," the senator announced.
With one last try, the chief warned, "Arthur, you're making a mistake."
"If it is, then it is mine to be made."
The two men gave one another a final poker face.
"Please have my car brought around front, and please have my driver returned behind the wheel. You've no doubt had the poor soul under the same type of Gestapo interrogation I've endured, but I've no doubt that he persevered under the best agents still available for the task. As you can see, I've chosen my friends wisely, Ethan." Pendley waggled a finger at the chief. "Have whatever tracking device you've had installed in my limousine removed. The car is outfitted with the technology to detect and neutralize such devices, so they'll be of no use to you. Don't bother having me followed. That will only result in my adjusting the timetable of my next demonstration."
As the man stepped toward the doors, Stoddard asked, "How will I reach you?"
"I'll reach you," Pendley explained. "If I recall, you and I have a direct connection via the War Room, eh? Don't be late, Ethan. I don't like to be kept waiting."
END of Chapter 20
