He told her, "We each have had our bit to play in all this. The only difference is I've enjoyed what I've had to do. I think that makes me a bit of a monster."
"Gordon," she stumbled her words without pulling her eyes from the floor. "You're not…you're not a monster."
He felt that to be very nice of her to say. She trembled at his touch, yet she still maintained the front. Still played the role.
Gordon said, "I loved Trevor, do you understand? I would have done anything for him. With him gone I want you to know…I want you to know that if you ever need anything…"
He stopped, unsure how to finish the thought without sending the wrong message. Ashley was a work of art far beyond his station. To feel her warmth for that moment was as close as he dared ever get. Monsters did not deserve so much. "Gordon…" His hand retreated. "It's okay. I can be very scary." "I'm not afraid of you," she lied. Again, he thought it very nice of her to try so hard.
"It is good to be afraid of monsters, Ashley. Fear is a basic, fundamental response to danger. It's healthy. But Ashley, Trevor sometimes needed a monster to do the jobs that others…that others should not be polluted by. The time may come when you need just such a monster. If so…well, if so, then just come catch a game."
Gordon pulled a small slip from his pocket and held it to her. Ashley examined the paper before accepting the mysterious gift. It was a ticket. More specifically, a ticket voucher for 'any event' at the "Miami Orange Bowl." "I don't understand. You'll still be around. Evan will need an Intelligence Director." Gordon shook his head. "I think Evan has enough of his own monsters." "Where will you go?" Gordon's eyes glazed and he waited several seconds before answering. "I'm going home." — Ray Roos strolled the first floor of the mansion. He had already packed his bags and shipped off to D.C., his valuables from his home on the far side of the lake. He had also cleared out what few files, equipment, and paperwork he kept at the mansion and handed over all his important stuff to Tucker, who would handle security for the Stones for as long as Ashley and her boy would need security. Roos expected that that would not be long at all.
Nonetheless, one bit of business remained.
He waited until Lori Brewer left for lunch. The Chief Administrator of the Empire-who would soon serve in a greatly diminished capacity-left the mansion with her husband and General Jerry Shepherd, who had come to town for a week of meetings with the other brass. That brass, Roos knew, would soon be operating out of the Pentagon building in D.C., just as President Godfrey would soon occupy the re-opened White House.
In any case, he walked into Lori Brewer's office, moved to her desk, bent over, and removed the small silver eavesdropping device he had affixed there months before.
He stood and examined the electronic bug. He considered how one tiny little listening device changed things so much.
Ray smiled to himself, stuffed the bug into a pocket in his sport jacket, and marched out of the room. He had a plane to catch.
13 — The Day They Tried to Kill Gordon Knox
Three helicopters buzzed across the Potomac River moving northeast. The merchants and customers doing business in the ad hoc marketplace on the Ellipse south of the White House recognized the lead chopper as Marine One, an H-3 Sea King that had served the last President of the old world and now served the first President of the new world.
Two Internal Security UH-1 "Huey" helicopters flanked the lead bird as the trio flew for the south lawn of the White House. An elated Evan Godfrey rode onboard Marine One accompanied by his wife Sharon, Dante Jones, Ray Roos, and a handful of bodyguards.
Evan took in the view from a starboard window. He saw the Washington monument-still scarred from Hivvan energy weapons-reaching into the sky. His skin tingled.
Roos, sitting in a high-backed chair, asked, "What's the first order of business, Mr. President?"
Evan answered the new Director of Internal Security, "We have a reception tonight and I'll be interviewing candidates for the positions in Agriculture and Science."
Dante had been sitting with his head hung low but the discussion piqued his interest.
"What about Eva Rheimmer? Or Omar? They've been pretty much doing Agriculture and Science all along."
Evan shook his head. "Yes, they've both done a great job. But like we discussed, Dante, we need to start fresh. Remember what we talked about; about not going half way."
"Yeah, I know. Just I thought it would be easier and all."
"I appreciate that, Dante. Let's just stick to our playbook, shall we?"
Roos said, "Well now, along those lines let me say that our man Tucker is all set to get Ashley out of the estate and down to their summer home. Then again, I guess you knew that."
Evan wished Ray had not brought that up in front of Dante but, then again, Roos had a way of trying to make Evan feel uncomfortable now and then, as if keeping his boss on his toes.
Dante jumped, "Ashley? JB? We never spoke about anything happening to them."
Evan calmed, "Easy, Dante. We're just moving them to their summer place in New Jersey. Like we talked about, we have to erase the estate from the public's mind. The new center of power is Washington D.C., where the Senate is, where the Presidency is. It's psychological."
Dante chewed on his thumbnail and stared out a window.
"Anyway, boss, that should be taken care of by the end of the week," Roos continued to aggravate the situation. "Seein' as to all the threats and stuff we've been getting against the Stones, I figure it's best for security reasons."
"Oh look at all the people," Sharon exclaimed as the formation of choppers flew over the marketplace on the Ellipse.
"Okay then," Godfrey adjusted his tie. "Now listen, we want smiles on everyone's face. Not big smiles because this is still a solemn day, but expressions of content and confidence."
Dante did not respond. Roos looked to his boss and smiled a big, man-eating grin.
"Okay Ray," Evan conceded. "Maybe you shouldn't worry about smiling."
Marine One descended to the south lawn while the escorts circled and then flew off. The big blades of the heavy helicopter created a small whirlwind rippling over the lines of press filming and photographing the arrival of the new President and his entourage. Internal Security officers dressed in policemen's garb stood alert both across the grounds and on the roof of the White House. Doberman Pinscher K9s with spiked silver collars sat rigidly among the building's pillars and entryways.
Evan Godfrey emerged from the helicopter and crossed the lawn toward his new home with his wife at his side and his closest associates trailing behind. That evening's news broadcasts would describe his gait as 'self-assured' and that Mr. Godfrey appeared 'at ease in his new role', exactly 'what the people needed in these turbulent times.' Questions came from the press. He picked only one to respond to. "How do you feel, Mr. President?" "Like it's morning in America." — The flurry of activity that began that morning with Evan's arrival continued for hours with press conferences and ceremony after ceremony. At last the media ran off to catch early suppers and file reports, taking advantage of a few hours respite before the inaugural reception scheduled for later that night.
Godfrey planned to change into a tuxedo and write a speech for the night's activities. However, Sharon had taken a bottle of something bubbly with her upstairs, suggesting the time had come to break in the Lincoln bedroom. Based on Sharon's disposition, he guessed they'd be breaking in just about every room in the White House. Evan wondered what would occupy his wife's time after the excitement of her victory over Trevor Stone dissipated. She might, in fact, become a problem.
Problems of other kinds occupied Evan's mind as he walked the red carpet along the Cross Hall on the first floor of the White House with Ray and Dante. With the press gone, only security and Evan's trusted associates remained in the building. That would change in a few hours, giving him a small window to address a few things that needed addressing.