The general continued to scowl, and his manner became colder.
Despite his feelings, Stan decided on restraint. What could he do about any of this anyway? “Okay, we need Sims,” he said.
“I don’t think you understand the seriousness of the situation.”
“The President is getting tired. I believe that’s what you’re saying.”
McGraw rubbed a big hand across his chin, and he seemed to measure Stan with his eyes. “There’s talk about helping him,” the general said quietly. “The President might need a rest, a vacation.”
Stan became alert, and something must have given it away.
“I’m finally getting through to you,” McGraw said. “Good. Homeland Security and the military are engaged in… talks concerning this.”
“I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”
“I think you do. If the President lacks the will to do what needs doing… then we’re duty bound to help him.”
“By staging a coup?” Stan asked, blurting the words before he could monitor himself.
McGraw’s face hardened, and the man’s gaze bored into Stan, becoming ugly, maybe even dangerous. A moment later, a grin broke out. “You’re missing my meaning, Higgins. FDR had a stroke at the end of World War II. No one said anything as those around him coped with the situation.”
“Sims is going to have a stroke?”
“Damnit, Higgins, can’t you be delicate for once? We’re talking about saving the country.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. McGraw is one of them, hungry for power. At least they’re getting their lingo right. No. I can’t believe McGraw is suggesting a coup, not Tom.
“Sir, if the President is unfit for duty, we should elect a new man. That’s what the Constitution says.”
“What century are you living in, son? We haven’t been following the Constitution for seventy years already. The politicians do whatever they want, making things up as they go along. When the people try to limit them in some way, that’s the only time the President or the others talk about the sacred Constitution.”
Stan sat back, stunned. “Are you talking about a triumvirate?” he asked.
“Speak English. What are you talking about?”
“Pompey, Julius Caesar and—”
“What? Caesar? Why are you talking about Roman history now? I don’t get you.”
“Back then, Caesar and the others formed a triumvirate that bypassed Roman laws. It sounds like that’s what you’re suggesting here.”
McGraw stared at him, finally shrugging. “Old son, you’re far too bold with your words. But yes, I’m talking about a triumvirate: Max Harold, me and Chairman Alan.”
“Homeland Security and the military will run the country?”
“Just until we kick the Chinese out,” McGraw said.
“And if the President fails to have a breakdown?”
McGraw gave him a hearty smile. “So much the better. We’re just talking about contingency plans.”
Sure you are.
“Well?” McGraw asked. “What do you think?”
“I’m not sure I follow you, sir.”
McGraw looked up at the ceiling as he shook his head. “You’re not stupid, Higgins. But very well, let’s make this crystal clear. Are you with me?”
“I’m not against you, sir.”
“That isn’t want I’m asking. Will you support me?”
Stan blinked several times as he ingested the general’s words. It began to dawn on him that McGraw wanted to make sure of his legions before he proceeded. If the army backed McGraw, the general could transform that into political power. Yes, if the three of them formed a triumvirate, things could become very sticky between Harold and McGraw. Homeland Security ran the police in all their variations. That was power, but nothing compared to the American military of millions.
McGraw played a dangerous game, and now the general tried to pull him into it.
No. I’m already in it. It doesn’t matter what I say. Frankly, joining him is probably the safer choice.
Stan rested his chin on his chest, feeling the stubble because he hadn’t shaved thoroughly enough this morning. He thought about Jake, how his boy had stood up for his beliefs. It had cost Jake, but he’d been a real man, an adult. The heroes of Stan’s life had stood up for their beliefs: Jesus, Martin Luther of Germany and George Washington.
This must be my hour to make a stand.
Stan expelled his breath and faced McGraw. “I believe in the Republic, sir.”
“What kind of answer is that?”
“An honest one, I suppose.”
“You’re going to buck me?”
Stan found himself in a staring contest with a three hundred and fifty pound drunkard. Tom McGraw could probably pound the crap out of him. Stan shifted in his seat. Well, okay, maybe so. But the general would know he’d been in a fight.
“Let me paint you a picture,” McGraw said. “It might help focus your thinking.”
Stan nodded as he held the general’s gaze.
“Your boy—Jake’s his name, I believe.”
Stan felt his temper slipping. Is he going to threaten me through my son? “Jake is his name,” he managed to say.
“Last year, a Militia tribunal sent him to a penal battalion.”
“That’s right,” Stan said. “Jake’s sin was that he pissed on a photograph of Max Harold while in a strip club.”
“Your boy has a morality issue, does he? Likes to watch women take off their clothes?”
“The Militia officer who pressed charges happened to be there, too. The man was quite taken with one of the strippers, I’m told.”
“That’s all dirt under the rug, Higgins. My point is that Jake went to a penal battalion. He survived the Germans, but murdered his sergeant.”
“The sergeant killed one of his men in cold blood,” Stan said. “Jake shot him in self-defense.”
“Let me finish,” McGraw said. “It’s my picture I’m painting. Your son fled into the army. Quite a feat, that. I’m wondering if you had a hand in it. I believe he’s presently in a Behemoth regiment.”
“What of it?” Stan heard himself say.
“Homeland Security wants him back to face a new tribunal for murder.”
“You mean they want to murder my son.”
“That’s an awfully unpatriotic statement, Colonel.”
How can this be happening? I have to keep calm. I have to think. I might lose my son otherwise.
“If they try to murder him, I’ll—” Stan clamped his lips together and looked away. Finally, he stood, and he faced the general. Slowly, Stan unbuttoned the rest of his coat, exposing his Medal of Honor.
“Do you see this, sir?”
“I do.”
“The medal is supposed to honor courage. There are different kinds, I know. The two most known are physical and moral. Between the two, moral courage is much rarer. My son has both. I strive for that. This is the real world. I understand. There are emergencies in every area of life. I’m not sure what I’m saying… except this. I’ll fight for my son.”
“Is that a threat?”
Suddenly Stan felt lightheaded, and he said, “Sure, why not? It’s a threat against you, sir, and against Homeland Security. If you use my boy against me so he dies, send some of your killers to my regiment and gun me down, because I’ll try to kill you and Max Harold both.”
McGraw stared at him, and Stan could see his death in the general’s eyes. He’d said too much. Jake liked to spout off. The apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree. Stan thought about taking his words back. Before he could, McGraw suddenly laughed heartily. The switch shocked Stan.