An alternate shortie based on The Majors by W.E.B. Griffin. One hopes he'd have enjoyed it. If you haven't read his Brotherhood of War series, by all means do so. Aside from being a cracking good set of novels, it gives an insider's look at things.
The Whip Crack'd
Mid-December, 1958 — New York City
PORTER CRAIG WAS AN ANGRY MAN. Through his senator — and that was the very possessive form — he'd just discovered that his cousin, Craig Lowell, was being all-but cashiered from the Army. For screwing his next-door neighbour, the wife of an older senator. Who had, it seemed, threatened him to do so. As in, if he didn't screw her, she'd tell her husband-the-Senator he had.
Craig — Major Lowell — enjoyed, loved even, being in the Army. He was a career officer. He was good, damned good, at what he did. While they didn't get along well, he and Craig were family. Nobody screwed with Porter Craig's family. This, Porter decided, would not, repeat NOT stand. If Craig wanted to retire, fine. Tossed out on his ass by a pack of political generals? Hell no. He picked up his telephone and began making calls.
The Hay-Adams Hotel, Washington DC
Porter relaxed back in a soft leather Queen Anne chair, sipping at a brandy and soda. Things had come together. This afternoon would finalize them. There would be a meeting at four. At least one career would be ruined. Others might be made. He'd never met the President but would soon, accompanied by his senator.
The President and Porter's senator were the first to arrive, at a quarter to four. Introductions made, Porter said "Help yourselves, gentlemen. There's coffee, tea and drinks. George will serve you whatever you wish. The rest should be here at four."
Eisenhower settled himself into another Queen Anne chair. "Bourbon and water, please," he told the waiting George. "Light on the water."
"What's this about, Mister Craig," the President continued. "Senator Ives has led me to understand it involves the military."
"It does, Mister President," Craig replied. "Specifically, your Army Chief of Staff, the so-called Key West Agreement, the Air Force and my cousin, Major Lowell. Plus the senior senator from Ohio.
"It seems that the senator's wife seduced my cousin, his next-door neighbour. Your Chief of Staff is upset about my cousin's sex life." Ives winced. Eisenhower raised an eyebrow, then sipped his Bourbon.
"I don't care if Craig decides to retire from the Army," Porter continued, "but by God, he'll not get chased out of the Army by some be-starred politician." Ives winced again. "And if he does get chased out, I assure you Mister President, that your Chief of Staff better die in … what is it called … ah. Quarters One. Because he will never buy or rent housing in the United States. Ever."
Eisenhower looked at Ives, who nodded. "He can do it, Ike. And will."
"Mister Craig, I've never heard of you. Mind telling me what you do to be able to issue such a threat?" Eisenhower asked. There was an edge to his voice.
"I'm an investment banker, Mister President. Craig, Powell, Kenyon and Dawes, of Manhattan. Most people never hear of us. We like it that way. My cousin, by the way, is one of the brighter graduates of Wharton. He recently purchased an Aero Commander, for which he wrote a check. It barely was noticed as far as his annual income from the firm goes. He's Vice-Chairman of the Board. I'm Chairman.
"I'll be blunt, Mister President. Craig is an officer and a gentleman. I'm neither an officer nor a gentleman. I'll ruin any asshole who fucks with my family. As we speak, the senior senator from Ohio is telling Lyndon Johnson that the pressure is too much for him and that he is resigning from the Senate. The governor of Ohio will announce his resignation from the Senate for reasons of health in the next few days. The former senator will be retiring to a farm near Berlin, Ohio where he will relax and work on his memoirs." Ives winced again. The brightest light his soon-to-be-former colleague would see would be his porch light.
Eisenhower looked questioningly at the senator. "Think, say, thirty, forty miles south of Abilene, Ike," he told the president. Eisenhower winced.
"Then," Porter continued, "there's your Vice Chief of Staff. He had Craig buy a house in Georgetown, at which Craig threw parties for General Black. Incidentally the now-former senator lived next door." He paused. "I will be discussing that with General Black in a few minutes." Eisenhower's eyebrow raised. "Expensive parties, Mister President. Parties which the firm cannot write off of taxes. Craig, Powell entertains in New York, not Washington DC. The Internal Revenue Service is not stupid."
The slightly raised voice of the Chief of Staff came through the door. "I hope Ike has a damn good reason for this …" it broke off as George opened the door. "Come in, gentlemen."
The three stood as George spoke. Head down, the COS strode angrily into the room. He stopped when Eisenhower spoke. General Black had come to attention just clear of the suite door. "I did have a good reason, General. I wanted you here," he said coldly. "Stand easy, General Black." The two generals stood facing the trio. Eisenhower sat down, followed by Ives and Craig.
"This is Senator Ives, the other gentleman is Mister Craig. He asked for this meeting, and I concurred. Mister Craig, you have the floor."
"Some time ago," Porter began, "my cousin was ordered to Washington. He met with General Black at some golf club. Odd name, Burning Tree. General Black more or less ordered my cousin to buy a house in Georgetown and to lavishly entertain. To lobby, in other words, for General Black."
Porter took a sip of his drink. "My cousin billed this to the firm," he continued. "The problem with that is that the Internal Revenue Service auditors are not stupid. Porter, Craig entertains officially in New York. Not Washington DC. Here, we buy drinks, dinners. Ipso facto, these parties are not tax deductible. Do you wish me to invoice the Army or yourself, General Black? Because neither Craig, Powell nor my cousin are going to suck up …" Porter took a small notebook out of his inner jacket pocket. "On the very close order of a third of a million dollars for either you or the Army."
"Now see here," the COS began. "Shut up, General," responded Porter. "I'll get to you momentarily. Well, General Black? Like Vespasian, I don't think money smells."
"Bill it to the Department of the Army," Black responded shakily. "Send the bill to my quarters, marked 'Personal Attention General Black.' I'll need substantiating invoices also." Porter nodded.
"What the fu … what did he spend that kind of money on?" the COS asked.
"Liquor, food, wait and catering staff," Porter replied. "Washington is more expensive than New York," he added. "I was surprised. As a gesture of both good-will and patriotism, Craig, Powell will not charge interest. I expect payment in thirty days."
He leveled a cold look at the Chief of Staff. "You, on the other hand, General, have tried, or are trying, to cashier my cousin because he screwed his neighbour. First of all, Craig's sex life is none of your damned business, unless it's your wife he's screwing. Second, had General Black not ordered him to lobby on his behalf, Craig wouldn't have had that particular former neighbour to screw. He would have stayed here, in our suite.
"You, the Army and General Black will cease to interfere with, nor will you obstruct, Craig's career. Craig's former neighbour is retiring to very rural Ohio. He has ceased to be a concern to anyone but me. I will be blunt. You can cashier Craig. You can sideline his career. I can not stop that. I can, however, and I will, should you do so, ruin both of you financially, politically and personally. You will never buy or rent property in the United States, or it's territories, ever again. Canada and Britain will be closed to you also." Porter took another sip of his drink. "No mention of this meeting will be made in Craig's record, or to anyone outside this room. If it is, I will find out. I'm done here, Generals. You may leave when the President says so."
Eisenhower looked coldly at the pair of generals. He didn't appreciate being humiliated, particularly by an absolute stranger. "My office. Tomorrow, be there early. Both of you. Dismissed."
