“That’s pretty convenient for you, wouldn’t you say?”
“Dick, I am going to give you two choices. You can resign your position and go to New York to help digging out or you can shut up and act like the Secretary of State. There is no third choice, and I expect an answer right now,” I told him.
The others just stared at him as his jaw worked, but eventually he said, “I am the Secretary of State.”
“Excellent. I am sure that there is plenty for you to do over at Foggy Bottom. Please go and see to it. Thank you.”
He stood with considerable ill grace and left. I turned to John Ashcroft. “John, the FBI works for you. After you leave here I am going to need to see the Director this afternoon, as soon as possible. You’ll also need to brief Denny Hastert and Senator Byrd, please.”
“Of course. If I may be excused?”
“Please.” I turned to Paul O’Neill. “The same goes with you and the Secret Service. I’ll need to see their boss as soon as possible as well. Also, could you get in touch with Wolfowitz for me? I’ll need to talk to him, also.”
“Yes, sir.”
That left me with Colin Powell, the Secretary of Defense. “Were you in your office when it was hit?”
“I thought a bomb had gone off! The whole place was shaking. We evacuated and I was able to get around to the side to see what happened. Unbelievable, I mean, just unbelievable!” he told me.
“General, just like I am going to be asking the CIA and the FBI, I am going to need any intelligence the military can come up with on who did this. Then it is going to be up to your department to destroy them.”
“You’ll have our full cooperation, sir.” He stood up and left.
I sat there in the conference room by myself for a moment, just staring at the wall, trying to think what I needed to do next. The list was endless. Then I realized there was one simple thing I could do. I stood and left the small conference room, and found a secretary sitting at a desk in a hallway. “Any idea where my family is?” I asked.
“They were taken to Fort Meade, sir,” answered a Secret Service agent who had begun to follow me.
I turned to face him. “Can you get them on the phone?”
He blinked and nodded. “Yes, sir.” The secretary wordlessly turned her desk phone to face him and he dialed a number, probably to his headquarters. I didn’t think cell phones would work underneath all the steel and concrete we were buried under.
A few minutes later, Marilyn was on the other end of the phone. “CARL! What’s going on!? Nobody is telling us anything!”
I breathed deeply, and felt a tremendous weight lift my chest. “Marilyn, it is so good to hear from you! You know about the World Trade Center?”
“Yes, what happened, why are we…”
“Marilyn, hold on for a second. George Bush was in there when it was hit. I’ve been named Acting President. Now, are the girls with you?”
“Acting… oh my God!” she said.
“I want you and the girls to get over to the Naval Observatory. I’ll see you later on. I’m fine. We’ll be fine. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“I love you, Carl.”
“I love you, too. Tell the girls I love them. Bye.” I hung up and smiled to myself, probably the first time since that morning. I turned to the agent and said, “Now, call who you have to, but get them to the Naval Observatory.”
“Sir, I don’t think we’re supposed to do that.”
“Son, I’ve already fired one Secret Service agent today. Want to go for two?” Realistically I couldn’t actually fire an agent. These guys were protected by civil service regulations. However, being dismissed from the presidential detail was the kiss of death career-wise, and that I could easily arrange.
His eyes widened and he grabbed for the phone again. To the secretary, I asked, “Is the White House still evacuated?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, let’s un-evacuate it. We can’t work out of a hole in the ground.” To the rest of my detail, I said, “Well, let’s go, fellows. Show me the way out.”
The White House is normally bustling with people, so it was eerily silent as we went in. I headed directly to my office. I wanted to start making calls, but I realized I didn’t even know how to get an outside line. Everything went through my secretary. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone and called Matt Scully. I quickly told him to get over to the office and I’d tell him what was happening; I was going to need a speech.
At that point Josh Bolten and Ari Fleischer came into my office, both with shocked looks on their faces. Josh was Deputy Chief of Staff for President Bush, and Ari was the White House Press Secretary. “Are you… did you…” came stumbling from Ari. Josh just was silent and stunned.
“I’m the Acting President. I wasn’t sworn in. President Bush might be found,” I told them. “Who was with him?”
“Huh?”
“Ari! Josh! Come on, snap to! I need some help here!” I had to get them back to reality.
They both focused in on that. “Uh, yes sir,” said Josh.
“Who was with President Bush?” I asked again, as gently as possible.
“Andy and Karl,” he replied.
“Scotty, too, and Blake,” added Ari.
I nodded. I knew all four men. Andrew Card was George Bush’s Chief of Staff and Josh’s boss, Karl Rove was ranked as a White House Senior Adviser, and Scott McClellan was Deputy Press Secretary and Ari’s number two man. Blake was Blake Gottesman, Bush’s ‘body man’, his personal aide like Frank had been for me during the campaign. We had a hole in the heart of the White House that these men would need to fill. It was one thing to eliminate the President, but in doing so I had also killed a number of other good men whose only crime had been to work for George Bush. I was truly a psychopath.
“Ari, I am going to need to go on television tonight and tell the country what is happening. I don’t know how to make that happen. Can you set that up?” I asked.
That was the sort of routine task he could focus on. “You mean, like from the Oval Office?”
I shook my head. “It’s too soon for that. Can we do it from my office instead? I don’t want to seem like I’m jumping the gun. When can we set it up for? Seven? Eight?”
Ari began to act professionally again. “Seven would be best. I’ll need to make some calls…”
I gave him a positive smile and pointed him towards the door. “See me when it’s set up.” I turned to Josh. “The Cabinet named me Acting President until we figure out what is happening to President Bush. I won’t be using the Oval Office unless I get sworn in. Can you handle this? Step up to it?”
Tears were streaming down his face, but he wiped them with a hand and nodded. “Yes, sir, it’s just… yes, sir.”
“Thank you, Josh. I need you to find out where the First Lady and the girls are, and also where former President Bush and his wife are. I need to talk to them. Go wash your face and settle down some, but then figure out where everybody is and get back to me.”
Josh took off and Matt Scully wandered in, along with Mike Gerson. They were the principal speechwriters in the White House. I gave them a quick breakdown on what had happened in the Cabinet meeting, and we went over an outline for the speech I needed to make that night. After they left Ari returned and told me it would be at 7:30 that night, and I sent him off to help Mike and Matt.
And so it went for the next two hours, with people streaming in and out of my office figuring out what was going on and what to do about it. Laura Bush and the girls had been taken to Camp David, and I spoke to Laura on the phone. There wasn’t much I could tell her other than rescue operations were underway. I spoke to the first President Bush and offered to send the spare Air Force One to pick him and Barbara up and bring them to Washington, an offer he accepted. I was on the phone with Rudy Giuliani in New York. He had been scheduled to attend the breakfast meeting and had been delayed. He got there just in time to watch the North Tower get hit. I told him that if he needed anything, to let me know and it was his. Scooter Libby showed up from the State Department with a list of foreign dignitaries I was ordered to call, basically every Prime Minister and President on the planet. I sent him back to State with the list and the order to have Cheney pick the ten most important and get that list to me tomorrow. Cheney could speak to the others.